The Once and Future Bat
by Mike Yamiolkoski
Summary: Batman of the 20th century faces a deadly assassin from the future.
1. Part I

**The Once and Future Bat**

a **Batman Beyond** fanfic  
by**  
Mike Yamiolkoski  
**  
  
  
  
** PART ONE**

Batman felt the wind whip his cape as he crouched at the edge of Gotham Cathedral, watching the street buzz with activity. Dark clouds above threatened rain, but it was of no consequence. Batman made his rounds regardless of the weather.

He found it difficult to admit even to himself that he missed having Robin at his side on a night such as this, when Tim Drake was away at school. Something about the boy's youthful attitude and cheerful recklessness balanced Bruce's own dark and brooding temperament, and sometimes it took the most iron of his control to keep from smirking at some of Tim's more outlandish stunts. There was no way around it - watching Tim drench the Joker in two thousand gallons of baby shampoo at the Avian Products warehouse had been just plain funny. The Joker hadn't thought so.

The city had been mostly quiet since, the calm that always seemed to settle after the Joker went back to Arkham. It was almost as if the other thugs in town were given a reminder that Batman was at large, and even the worst of them was no match for the Dark Knight. Bruce frowned and put that thought from his mind - it did no good to rate his many foes on their level of danger. They were all dangerous, and as soon as he established a hierarchy, he ran the risk of giving a common purse snatcher less effort than Two-Face. All crooks posed a threat. All of them had earned an equal share of his wrath.

Sharp eyes swept the cityscape. He frequently stopped at the cathedral, as it offered a unique vantage point that allowed him to see nearly all of lower Gotham at a glance. The flashing blue lights of a police car caught his attention for a moment, but even from his distant perch Batman could tell it was only a minor incident. His hunch was confirmed when the lights went out of their own accord a moment later and the car drove on.

Batman stood and prepared to step from the tower, readying a batline to fire at the skyscraper across the street. Then he suddenly leapt backwards into the open window of the belfry, just in time to avoid the brilliant red beam that sliced through the solid stone of the ledge he'd occupied a moment before.

The jump had been reflexive in response to a whining noise off to his right - only after the fact did the details register and Batman realized that someone had fired some sort of energy beam at him. From the looks of the damage done to the tower, the weapon must have been huge, and would take some time to recharge -

A second beam sliced through the wall, a strong column, the bell itself. A crescent-shaped chunk of brass dropped from the bell and crashed down the rickety old stairs of the tower.

An instant later, the Batman followed it, plunging down the inside of the stairwell, flipping around in mid-plummet to fire his batline into the wall. It was a calculated risk - he had no idea if the ancient concrete was strong enough to hold the grappling hook and arrest his fall.

He began to swing toward one of the many windows in the tower, making his body as small as possible to fit through the narrow opening. A small chunk of concrete struck his shoulder, but he ignored it.

It was impossible to ignore the third beam that attacked the tower. This one sliced clean through the entire structure. In a corner of his mind that wasn't occupied by the mortal danger he found himself in, the Batman was struck by the remarkable power of the laser beams. He knew of no way to create a laser powerful enough to do what this one was doing, three times in rapid succession, that wasn't at least the size of the Cathedral itself - and even that was pushing the cutting edge of technology.

Then he was through the window and out into the night. The wall that formerly held the batline crumbled, along with a good part of the rest of the tower. Reaching onto the other side of his belt, Batman pulled his second line and fired it into the building across the street, a more modern structure that had the additional advantage that it wasn't collapsing to the ground around him. He felt an uncharacteristic pang of panic as he swung across the street, now in plain site of whomever was trying to kill him, but no more beams followed. Presumably, the wielder of this unknown weapon had figured that the Batman would be trapped inside the collapsing Cathedral tower.

And he was very nearly correct, as the tower was leaning slightly towards the Batman's flying form as he swung just inside the leading edge of dust and debris. Perhaps that saved his life, as the falling building that threatened him also camouflaged him until his path took him to just ten feet above street level - close enough to jump.

Batman hit the ground rolling, flipped to his feet, and ran for his life as the ancient Cathedral of Gotham reduced itself to a crashing, thundering pile of rubble after having stood for over two hundred years. An oaken beam struck the Batman directly on the back of his head and sent him into oblivion.

* * * * *

Pain. Noise. The taste of blood. Bruce opened his eyes slowly, and saw people climbing sideways through a jumble of fallen stone and dust.

His consciousness returned swiftly. The noise he heard was a combination of the sirens of approaching emergency vehicles and the shouts of rescue workers. Batman knew that there had been no other people in the tower (except, perhaps, his assailant) and tried to move. It was important to call of the rescue attempts before someone else was hurt in the unstable remains of the Cathedral.

The pain sharpened noticeably when he tried to pull his legs under him. His left knee had been badly wrenched, and his head was pounding. He felt the back of his skull - it seemed intact. His left arm hurt badly enough that it was probably fractured.

As his thought began to clarify, Bruce realized that he couldn't afford to reveal himself, even to the rescue workers. Whomever had fired at him could easily still be around, waiting for him to show himself. The risk from that laser beam was far greater than that of the debris pile itself.

Pulling himself forward with his good arm, Batman extracted himself from under the beam that had felled him and crawled the short remaining distance into the alley across the street.

No one saw him as he lifted a manhole cover and dropped into the sewer.

* * * * *

"Alfred?"

"Thank God, sir!" Alfred's relieved voice came in clearly over the Bat-boat's radio. "I just saw the tower collapse on the news. I prayed that you had chosen to deviate from your usual flight path."

Batman winced as he snapped the seatbelt around his waist and keyed the Bat-boat to take the swiftest route back to the cave. "I'm afraid I was there, Alfred. Though I'm fairly certain I was the only casualty, besides the tower itself."

"Good lord. Are you badly injured?"

Pride had its time and place - this wasn't it. "Yes. I'll need you to contact Leslie Thompson and have her meet me at the Batcave." He thought for a moment. "Tell her that it's an emergency, but that she is not to drive quickly or otherwise draw attention."

"Yes sir. If I may, what was the cause of the disaster? The news reports have been a bit vague on that point."

Batman shook his head, immediately wishing he hadn't as a fresh pain washed through him. "I don't know, Alfred."

* * * * *

"It seems you've been lucky again," Dr. Thompson said as she set Bruce's arm into a cast. "You have a sprained knee, a hairline fracture of the wrist, and a mild concussion. These injuries will get worse if you don't take care of them properly. They will get better if you take some rest. Understand?"

Leslie's car looked oddly out of place parked in the Batmobile's usual spot. Bruce had elected to leave the Batmobile hidden in the alley he'd parked it in for the night. He would rather the car spent the night in the city than lead his assassins back to the cave. It was fortunate that the old sewers around the late Gotham Cathedral had been large enough for the Bat-boat to reach him.

Bruce shook his head. "There's something very dangerous out there. Whatever it was that leveled the Cathedral was like nothing I've ever seen, or heard of. I need to know what it was and where it came from."

Leslie Thompson frowned severely at Bruce as she wrapped bandages around Bruce's arm. "You are in no condition to go swinging about the city. You can barely walk, Bruce!"

"I'm afraid Dr. Thompson has a point, Master Bruce," Alfred said, approaching with a steaming cup of tea. "You must realize you've been badly injured. I implore you to consider the consequences of not allowing yourself to heal."

Bruce nodded. "I appreciate your concerns. But... there's something different about this time. Let me show you, Alfred, if you insist on being convinced."

Bruce grunted as he stood up and limped over to the Batcomputer. He began pulling up specs on various experimental laser weapons. "These designs are some of the latest devices in various stages of research and development by the Pentagon. This one -" Bruce selected one of the specs "- is the most powerful. It could probably do the damage the weapon trained on me did."

"Who would have access to such a weapon?" Alfred asked.

"No one," Bruce replied grimly. "It exists only on paper. To build it would require at least three major breakthroughs in technology, roughly half the entire defense budget of the U.S., five years of intense labor, and a perfect diamond the size of my fist. At the end, you'd have something that would barely fit in the Batcave and could fire one beam at full power for a duration of three seconds, then take two hours to recharge for the next shot."

"I... see," said Alfred.

"Based on the angle of the beams that struck the Cathedral, the laser was probably mounted on the roof of Gotham Plaza towers, which would be incapable of supporting anywhere near the necessary weight. In addition, there's the matter of hauling it up there to begin with, which would have had to be done with no one - including me - noticing it. It's also possible that it was fired from orbit, but that rather begs the question of how it could have gotten there. Any way you look at it, what happened tonight was simply... impossible."

Alfred's mouth went dry. That was a word that his employer didn't use lightly.

"And so," Bruce said, getting to his feet, "It's more or less absolutely necessary that I figure out exactly how someone is managing to do the impossible."

"By trying to accomplish it yourself?" Dr Thompson asked, shaking her head. "Bruce, you need to give it at least forty-eight hours before you try anything more strenuous than walking a few yards at a time with the help of a cane. And it's not just me trying to stop you, it's your own body that will give out on you if you try to push yourself too hard. For God's sake, Bruce, listen to reason!"

"If I may, sir," Alfred said, "there is, perhaps, an alternative."

* * * * *

"You know I wouldn't ask you if it weren't extremely important."

"I appreciate that, Bruce. But why not ask Batgirl or Robin to cover this one?"

Dick Grayson leaned forward and drummed his fingers on the Batcomputer console. It felt strange to be back in the Batcave again after being absent from it for so long, and even stranger to be standing there in his Nightwing suit rather than the Robin suit which stood in its glass case along the wall.

"Dick," Bruce said, "you must realize that this is a matter of grave concern. Someone has managed to get their hands on a weapon so dangerous that even the U.S. Military is a full generation behind in developing its equal. We need to know where it came from."

"I'm more interested in why they chose to attack Gotham Cathedral, of all things," Grayson mused. "Surely there are more reasonable targets. What does anyone gain from destroying a historic church?"

"You know as well as I do the answer to that."

"They were after you, personally."

"Which doesn't clear anything up," Bruce said. "Rather, it muddies the issue. Not only did the perpetrator have a weapon he couldn't have had, he knew where I'd be at the moment he'd want to use it. Something like that just couldn't be portable - he'd have had to set it up in advance. Why? Why go through such tremendous effort?"

"Bruce, there's a lot of people who want very badly to kill Batman."

"Granted. But the phrase 'shooting off a cannon to kill a gnat' comes to mind. Why construct a weapon like this just to kill me? A conventional rocket launcher might have had the same effect."

Dick smiled. "You know, most people admit that a bullet would do the trick. You require a rocket launcher. And you still haven't answered my original question. Why me?"

Bruce shuffled in his seat. "Because I have a bad feeling."

Dick's smile dropped. "When you get those kinds of feelings, the odds of survival drop pretty fast."

Bruce's face was that of a man whose thoughts blocked out the rest of the world. "There's something very… mysterious about this. No, that's the wrong word, but I can't find the right one. It feels unnatural. You have more experience than Barbara, and certainly more than Tim. It needs to be you."

Dick slipped on his mask. "Where do you want me to go first?"

Bruce nodded. "Gotham Plaza Towers. Where the weapon should have been mounted, if my calculations are right. See what you can find."

Nightwing ran to his motorcycle, gunned the engine, and roared out into the tunnel that led to the surface. Bruce couldn't help but feel he'd just sent his former apprentice to his death.

**TO BE CONTINUED...**


	2. Part II

**The Once and Future Bat**

a **Batman Beyond** fanfic  
by**  
Mike Yamiolkoski  
**  
  
  
  
** PART TWO**

The top of the north Gotham Plaza Tower was much like the roof of any given skyscraper - gravelly surface, shacks that held air conditioning and water systems, and not much else. Since it was the tallest building in lower downtown Gotham, the tower also sported a large TV transmitter.

Nightwing's initial search turned up little. From the tower roof, he could easily see the ongoing cleanup effort on the remains of Gotham Cathedral in the street below, well enough to confirm Bruce's estimate that the beams came from this direction. The slice into the tower was edge-on from his vantage point.

But nowhere on the roof was there any sign of large equipment having been there, or even footprints - which would have been hard to spot in gravel, but Nightwing knew the signs to look for. While he might have missed the traces of a single person walking carefully about the roof, there was simply no way to have placed something like a weapons-grade laser on the roof without leaving a clue. Yet there was none.

For the sake of being thorough, Nightwing made his way to the TV tower and began climbing. It was fairly easy going, as the tower was designed to be climbed, but again he found nothing remarkable as he neared the top. Sighing, he started back down -

That was odd.

From atop the antenna, Nightwing could see something about the roof that he had missed from a lower perspective. The gravel seemed to have attained an unnatural circular pattern, as if someone had hovered a helicopter just above the roof and blown the gravel outward. It was subtle enough to miss at any angle except directly overhead, but it was unquestionable. And since it had rained heavily two days previous, the pattern had to have been made recently. Someone had been up on the roof.

Nightwing knew this part of Gotham well. There was no genuine reason to fly a helicopter so close to the roof of Gotham Plaza Tower, and none of the nearby buildings were equipped with helipads. Besides, Bruce had said that he had noticed no unusual activity around the towers, and a helicopter would certainly have qualified as unusual. So that theory was out, but Nightwing could think of no other explanation that made sense.

He slid rapidly down to the ground again and examined the circle more carefully. It measured about twenty feet across. It was more or less perfectly circular, though it was hard to judge exactly where the edges of the effect lay so that was a rough estimate. For a moment, Nightwing had the quixotic thought that a UFO had descended on the building, fired a otherworldly ray-gun at Batman, and left behind the urban equivalent of a crop circle, but pushed the notion from his head as being impossible.

Then again, the whole situation was impossible. Maybe he shouldn't be so quick to dismiss such ideas.

Still, Nightwing preferred to remain in the realm of reality for a bit longer. He gathered up two samples of gravel, one from the center of the circle, one from nearer the outer edge. Then, with nothing more to be done, he prepared to leave the rooftop.

Then he saw something that made him stop. The Batsignal had flashed into the clouds.

It seemed he wasn't going home yet.

* * * * *

"Good evening, Commissioner."

Commissioner Gordon whirled around, startled at a voice he hadn't expected. "Nightwing?"

"Yes. I'm afraid Batman is indisposed for the time being."

"Not a good time for it," the Commissioner sighed, and went to turn off the spotlight. "I assume you know why I've called him?"

"My guess would be the Cathedral."

"Of course. The city engineers have looked over the remains to try to find a reason for its collapse, and I've had some outside experts brought in. No one can determine how any building could have failed the way it did, along such a precise diagonal line. Witnesses haven't been much help. The only thing they all agree on was that it happened very quickly. Some have said that it was accompanied by a flash of red light."

"That matches my findings," Nightwing nodded.

"So, can you give us any insight?"

"Not much. Batman's theory is that the building was deliberately destroyed by some kind of high-tech weapon. But that's all it is right now, a theory. I understand there were no fatalities?"

"We can thank our lucky stars for that. It was the maintenance staff's night off, and no one happened to be in the street below when it fell." Commissioner Gordon rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "This theory of Batman's disturbs me. If he's right, it could happen again. The Cathedral might have been a test to prepare for something larger."

"Has anyone claimed responsibility?"

"No one that we can take seriously. So, I hope you'll share any of your findings with us?"

When he didn't get an answer right away, he knew that Nightwing had silently left. He didn't even bother to turn around, but simply walked off the roof, muttering.

* * * * *

Nightwing cruised back through the city, feeling like he'd done a supremely inadequate job but not knowing where to go next. If the gravel bits in his pocket didn't reveal anything, they'd be at a dead end. A building had been leveled, an ancient and important building, and no one knew how or by whom. It was maddening.

He was listening to the police band, more out of habit than anything else, as he drove the motorcycle along the main highway through Gotham. Miscellaneous calls about pulling over drunk drivers, or domestic disturbances, or routine checks. Then, something that was a little more unusual.

"Unit 5-Alpha-40, come in, over."

"This is 5-Alpha-40."

"Please proceed to Third and Main to investigate a possible electrical fire or gas explosion. Fire control units are on their way."

"Ten-four."

Normally Nightwing would have ignored it, but the next exit would take him right there. He decided to have a look.

* * * * *

From the roof of a warehouse, Nightwing observed the activity below. There was no fire, but he could detect an unmistakable odor of ozone, like after a thunderstorm. And the alley down below had definitely been the site of something interesting. There was a round crater blasted in the asphalt, with impact waves spread radially outward. Nightwing wondered if the alley had been hit by a small meteorite - stranger things had happened in Gotham.

Suddenly he tensed, ears straining. A noise behind him, like a footstep. Nightwing sensed he was not alone on the roof.

Another footstep, and Nightwing determined the general direction from which the noise came. He dropped and leapt behind a large duct, spinning about to face the intruder and whipping out his own version of a Batarang.

"Show yourself!" he whispered loudly. "I know you're there."

Silence ensued. Nightwing scanned the roof moving his eyes alone, his body tensed for action. If his unseen companion made just one more noise -

There! It was no more than the slight scratching of gravel as a man shifted his weight, but it was enough for Nightwing to pinpoint the exact source. His batarang flew with expert precision. His target moved - fast. The batarang missed.

Nightwing knew at that moment that he was not only fighting an unseen opponent, but an unseeable one. He saw the footprints appear in the gravel as if made by invisible feet. They were running away from him, however, not toward him.

His mind worked quickly. There was no reason for an invisible foe to try to lead him into an ambush. Nightwing followed fast behind his enemy, pulling another batarang, a charged one this time. Whatever technology made a man invisible might be countered with a simple, strong electrical shock. Judging by the path his target was taking, his next step would be - there!

The batarang flew, curved, struck. A blaze of light erupted on the roof and a man-shaped shadow appeared where there had been none before, as well as a very human-sounding scream. Nightwing leaped to the top of a utility shack to have the jump on the man when the sparks died.

Then he pounced.

The figure was visible now, a slim, athletic man dressed entirely in black. Nightwing took him in a rolling tackle and caught the man in a full-nelson, forcing him face-down to the roof. Then he got a shock of his own. His opponent was masked, but not with just any mask. The cowl sported a familiar set of sharply pointed "ears" much like Nightwing's former employer. It seemed there was a new bat in town.

Nightwing made a grab for the cowl, but the figure took advantage of the broken hold and twisted away, flinging Nightwing off his back with surprising strength. Nightwing rolled with the impact, turned to counterattack - but his opponent was off and running again - straight for the edge of the building.

Then he leaped. Red wings unfolded at his sides, and rocket flares shot from the soles of his boots. In a matter of seconds, the pseudo-bat was out of sight.

Nightwing flipped out a small device from his belt. Out of sight, perhaps, but not out of reach. The tracer he'd fired at the man's back as he ran off was sending back a good, clear signal.

* * * * *

"He was invisible?"

"At first," Dick Grayson acknowledged as he and Bruce went over the details of the evening. "I hit him with a shock-batarang, and that disrupted whatever was cloaking him. The shock itself didn't seem to hurt him much, even though it should have been powerful enough to render him unconscious."

"And his costume was like mine?"

"A little different. Darker, more form-fitting, without the cape. Kind of stylish, actually. Are you recruiting more help without telling us about it?"

Bruce glared.

"Guess not. So, where did he go from there?"

Bruce turned to the Batcomputer and called up a map of Gotham. "After your encounter, he seems to have flown straight to WayneTech headquarters, and landed on the roof. From there he flew to the Gotham Cathedral ruins. After spending some time there, he proceeded at ground level to a nearby abandoned warehouse, from which he hasn't moved for the past two hours."

"So, shall we go get him?"

Bruce shook his head. "Not yet. I'd like to have a better idea of what he's up to first. We can learn more by waiting for him to make his next move, then following him."

Dick sat down. "Are you thinking this is the same guy who took a shot at you?"

Again, Bruce shook his head. "No, you would have had more of a fight on your hands if that were the case. Still, he must have some connection with the tower attack."

"Just because he showed up around the same time?"

"There's more than that. The invisibility screen you spoke of speaks of advanced technology."

"It's nothing we haven't seen before," Dick pointed out. "I seem to remember you tangling with some psycho in an invisible suit. Mojo, or something?"

"Yes, but there's also the matter of his escape. If he flew from Third and Main to the top of WayneTech, and from there to the Cathedral, he would have needed at least a two-liter fuel tank to power his rockets. And you said he didn't have one."

"It's hard to say. It's possible that he had a flat tank molded to fit his back, or something."

"But why would he have used up all his fuel in one go? Granted, he had a reason to get away from you as soon as possible, but he had no reason to fly from WayneTech to the Cathedral. Yet he did so, as if unconcerned about his fuel usage."

Bruce turned away from the computer. "We still have a lot of unanswered questions. In the meantime, we'll have a look at that gravel you brought back."

* * * * *

Bruce stepped away from the computer after having scrutinized the small rocks in every possible way. All his tests showed exactly what he'd expected - it was perfectly ordinary gravel.

As much as he hated to admit it, Bruce found his mind beginning to drift. He hadn't had any sleep for some time, and not much to eat either. His leg was uncomfortably numb with painkillers, and his arm remained useless for the time being. It would be a minimum of two weeks before he could really go out as the Batman again.

Bruce frowned. That was what was truly bothering him. Not just the fact that his injuries prevented him from performing his sworn duty, but that even if he were fit and healed, he would hesitate. Batman was the target of an immensely powerful foe, one with previously unheard-of forces at his command, and he would cut a path straight through the city to get what he wanted. Until this mystery was solved, Batman would have to stay in hiding.

But Bruce wouldn't.

He pulled up the city map on the Batcomputer again. The tracer remained where it had been for the past ten hours. Bruce wondered if the stranger had fallen asleep, or had found the tracer and ditched it. Perhaps it was time to check out that warehouse.

Bruce got up and went to the disguise room.

* * * * *

An hour later, an elderly, jowly, white-haired man lifted a manhole cover and hoisted himself to the street. He leaned on a twisted cane for support, and his arm was in a sling. His eyes did not match his aged appearance.

The warehouse was just across the street, an unremarkable building that had once held foodstuffs, but was now one of many abandoned buildings in the blighted neighborhood of South Lower Gotham. The entire area was a nest for crime, from petty vandalism to the temporary headquarters of the Joker or Two-Face. At least the latter form of activity had died down in recent years, as Gotham's crime lords had come to realize that it was the first place Batman tended to look for them when trouble occurred.

Bruce pulled a scanner from his concealed utility belt and checked the tracer. His eyebrow raised slightly - it was on the move. They hadn't lost their prey after all.

The tracer stayed in one general area for a moment, then began following a path that matched the stairwell in the building. Bruce limped along the street to the next alley, where he was able to get a better view of the warehouse. From what he could see on the scanner, his target was moving toward the roof.

Bruce took a pair of what seemed to be ordinary reading glasses from his shirt pocket, but in reality served as binoculars of a respectable power. He watched the roof door carefully.

The door opened, and the figure emerged.

Bruce frowned. The man was dressed as Dick had described, in a slightly stylized version of the Batsuit. Not a copy, exactly - the man obviously wasn't trying to impersonate him. But the symbolism was unmistakable.

The figure looked briefly around, then again as Dick had said, spread a pair of wings and rocketed off the roof. Bruce resisted the temptation to watch the man fly off - the scanner would give him far more accurate information. He observed the glowing dot as it passed over Lower Gotham and came to rest at Gotham Plaza Tower.

* * * * *

Bruce rode the elevator to just below the top floor of the tower, watching his scanner carefully the whole time. The man was still on the roof, seemingly walking around its surface and occasionally jetting from one part to another.

The elevator let him off at the second-to-top floor. Bruce stepped quietly into the hall, looking left and right, and made his way to the door at the end. It was an apartment that belonged to one of his executives at WayneTech, one who Bruce knew for a fact was on vacation with his family. The cardkey lock was child's play for the universal card from Bruce's utility belt, and he slipped inside easily. A second device switched off the home security system.

Soon Bruce was on the veranda, facing a two-story climb up the side of the building to the roof. It was something he could do without a second thought, except that he would have to do it with one arm and one leg this night. Bruce didn't hesitate, but gripped the stone column with one hand and started up.

Halfway there, he paused to check the scanner. The man seemed to be sitting at one corner of the roof, the spot where Dick had reported seeing the circular pattern in the gravel. Fortunately, it was at the opposite corner from where Bruce climbed. He would likely reach the top without being seen.

A minute later, Bruce pulled himself over the ledge and onto the roof, dropping soundlessly onto a patch of exposed tar where the gravel had slid away. From there, he was able to get his first good look at his target.

One detail he noticed immediately was that there was certainly no fuel tank on his back for the rockets. The man was too slim for that. And he was muscular, but didn't seem strong enough to be able to throw Nightwing the way he had. He seemed to be scrutinizing the roof surface carefully. His way of moving seemed unfamiliar - Bruce felt that this wasn't someone he'd encountered before.

His face turned slightly in Bruce's direction, and Bruce saw that the mask covered the man's entire face. He also got his first look at the symbol on the man's chest. It was a bat. Dark red, different from his own, but a definite bat.

The man completed his inspection of the roof, but rather than fly away, he seemed to suddenly despair. He sat down on the roof and hung his head, muttering to himself. It was apparent that whatever he was looking for, be it some specific item or simply an answer to a problem, he hadn't found it.

Bruce decided to take action. He stepped from his hiding place.

Instantly the man was on the alert, springing to his feet and whipping around. A weapon flashed in his hand, a curved blade that reminded Bruce of his own batarangs. Bruce palmed one of his own, to be on the safe side, and moved into the light.

Then the man in the suit said the last thing Bruce expected to hear.

"Mr. Wayne?" 

**TO BE CONTINUED...**


	3. Part III

**The Once and Future Bat**

a **Batman Beyond** fanfic  
by**  
Mike Yamiolkoski  
**  
  
  
  
** PART THREE**

Bruce's reply was cut off as his ears picked up a familiar, high-pitched whine. Putting painful pressure onto his injured knee, he leapt to the side as the red beam of the killer laser swept across the roof. It cut horizontally, slicing anything over three feet off the surface - the utility sheds, the water cistern, and the television antenna.

Bruce rolled with his fall, and came to a rest facing a strange, impossible aircraft hovering off the side of the tower. It was elliptical in shape, and seemingly held itself up with no propulsive power outside of a circular glowing disk on its underside. On its bow was mounted a device that could only be the laser emitter - and it was glowing, charging, firing!

This time the laser sliced closer to the roof's surface, cutting diagonally downward and missing Bruce so closely that his hair was singed by the heat. The TV antenna took another hit, and with a groan began to topple. Bruce rolled to his feet and limped as fast as he could toward the edge of the roof, pulling out a batline as he did, knowing that he would never make it.

Suddenly he was struck from behind, and found himself speeding across the roof in the tight grasp of the mysterious black-clad figure. The laser beam cut into the roof where he'd been standing an instant before, stabbing clean through the building to strike the ground below. In another half-second they were clear of the collapsing roof, and streaking at high speed toward the ground below. Bruce recovered quickly and held his batline at the ready should he need to use it, but for the time being knew that this strange man had the fastest ticket to safety.

The laser didn't fire again, but Bruce heard the whine of the aircraft that housed it approaching closer. He didn't know whether he or his companion was the target, but he did know that it made sense to split up. His batline fired across the street into another tower, and pulled him from the flying man's grasp. Gripping the line one-handed, Bruce swung out and over the street, reeling in at the same time to avoid a collision with the asphalt.

Bruce had had no time to properly calculate his descent. The batline whipped him around the building into the alley, and he took his first opportunity to let go, dropping into a dumpster. It was an undignified but reasonably safe landing as his fall was cushioned by empty cardboard boxes and a week's worth of personal trash.

He lay quietly for a moment - if the attacker had seen him, he was dead anyway, but if he hadn't, then moving would only give him away. He dared to move only enough to pull the scanner from his pocket and check the status of the tracer.

Before he had the chance to do more than glance at it, a terrific noise shook the dumpster and buried him under a thin layer of refuse. The television antenna had crashed to the street, along with a good-sized chunk of Gotham Tower Plaza. Bruce felt he could no longer stay where he was - if the entire building collapsed, anywhere within a two-block radius was unsafe. He could hear the sounds of the people running into the street, and realized he could easily camouflage himself among them.

As well as he could with his one good leg, Bruce leapt from the dumpster and made his way into the street. People were streaming from the apartment buildings in droves, carrying whatever they'd managed to grab in the haste to escape. The top of Gotham Tower Plaza was on fire, but to Bruce's eye, the building didn't seem to be in danger of collapse. The laser had only sliced through the uppermost floor, and the structure as a whole was far sturdier than the Gotham Cathedral had been.

Bruce quickly scanned the sky, and saw no immediate sign of his dark-clad rescuer or the strange aircraft. He had no time to investigate further, as he heard a scream of pain above the continuous shouts of panic. Turning toward the source of the sound, he saw a woman trapped under a piece of fallen debris. Before he could take more than a few steps in that direction, however, a black flash dropped to the street from above and, with inhuman strength, lifted the heavy chunk of steel off the woman's legs and tossed it aside. Then he checked the woman for serious injuries, and, apparently satisfied that it was better to move her then not, picked her up carefully and carried her through the crowd to the nearby park where people were gathering. Bruce followed as quickly as he could. He caught up with the man a moment later, but came just close enough to listen.

"She has two broken legs, and may have other internal injuries," the man was saying to a bystander. "Make sure she gets on an evac craft as soon as medical help arrives."

"A what?" asked the bystander. "You mean, a helicopter?"

"Yeah, that," said the black-suited man.

"Hey, man, this might sound like a dumb question, but - are you Batman's best friend, or something?"

The man seemed to hesitate. "In a way," he replied. "Just know that we're on the same team."

Bruce lifted an eyebrow at that.

Emergency vehicles had begun to arrive, and the pseudo-batman seemed to take notice. He opened his wings and sprang into the air with a burst of flame from his boots. The crowd around him gasped with surprise. Bruce simply watched as the figure disappeared into the night sky, then turned to leave himself. He couldn't afford to be stopped and examined by the paramedics.

On his way back to the sewer where he had secured the Bat-Boat, Bruce clicked on the scanner. The tracer was gone.

*********

"I arrived on the scene shortly after you did," said Dick Grayson. They were back in the Batcave.

Dick continued, "I saw the attack on the tower, and I saw you and the other bat fly off the roof. After you landed, he took off down the street and, somewhere along the way, he somehow discovered the tracer and destroyed it. That hovercraft thing chased after him, and it fired another shot, but it didn't seem to hit anything. Then it took off. I lost track of the craft and the man in black after that myself - I was too busy trying to help the people. I'm sorry I didn't keep track of him."

"You did what was necessary," Bruce assured him. "In any event, I have the feeling we'll see our new friend again very soon."

"I did manage to locate this," Dick said, and held out a vial. "It's what's left of my tracer."

Bruce took the vial and looked closely at its contents. "It's been crushed," he observed. "Looks like it was done with human fingers."

Dick shook his head. "Impossible. Those are based on your design. No one could crush them with their bare hands. Maybe Bane could do it, but that pretty much ends the list."

"I saw him lift a piece of debris that had to weigh over a quarter ton," Bruce said, "and it didn't even tax him. Either we're dealing with someone with inhuman powers, or he has some mechanical means of enhancing his strength. Based on the pattern of unusually advanced technology we're seeing, I'd guess the latter." Bruce suddenly looked with greater interest at the vial. "Hmm... it looks like there's a fiber in here with the tracer."

"From his suit?"

"Likely. I'll need to run some tests on it."

Dick sighed. "Bruce, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you look really exhausted. I can run the tests while you get some rest. Just tell me what you're looking for."

Bruce glared at him.

"Bruce, you brought me in on this so I could help you. Let me do it, or send me back home."

"You're stubborn as all hell, Dick," Bruce said, shaking his head. He punched up a number of files on the Batcomputer. "Run these tests. It shouldn't take you more than three hours. I'll be back then." Bruce got up and made his way up the stairs to the residence.

"You're welcome," muttered Dick, and set to work.

*********

"Interesting. Very interesting."

Bruce studied the results of Dick's testing with fierce concentration.

"That's what I thought," said Dick. "It isn't nylon, rayon, Kevlar, or any other known synthetic. And it certainly isn't a natural fiber. Spectroanalysis showed nothing but pure carbon."

"But it's engineered at the molecular level," Bruce said, more to himself than to Dick. "It's a braided nanotube. I'd estimate that it has a tensile strength over fifty times that of steel. Another piece of impossible technology, like the laser - but with one major difference."

"What's that?"

Bruce sat back and punched up a set of specifications on the Batcomputer. "This one exists. As far as I know, it only exists in one place."

Dick read the screen. "WayneTech Enterprises."

"Exactly. Our top-level R&D people made a breakthrough on this only last week. We created a braided carbon nanotube two millimeters long, the first time anyone has made one large enough to see. This is identical, except for the fact that it obviously came from a much longer fiber. And there's more," Bruce continued, pulling up another file. This one was sketchier, less professional. "I've been working on a new batarang, trying to improve its aerodynamics and range. This is a preliminary sketch that I came up with two months ago, then put away when the Joker broke out of Arkham."

"Cool."

"The man in the suit pulled one on me tonight."

Dick whistled. "Anything else?"

Bruce nodded grimly. "Yes. He saw through my disguise. He called me by name."

Dick sat down. "That's a little disturbing. But, it's not impossible. No disguise is foolproof, maybe he was just unusually perceptive."

"It was the way he said it. It was as if he knew me, and was surprised to see me." Bruce's eyes narrowed. "That man in the black suit holds the key to all of this, I'm sure of it. We have to find him somehow. And I have a thought on that."

"Somehow, I figured you might."

Bruce pulled up a new screen on the Batcomputer. "This is an image from a spy satellite over Gotham."

"A live image?"

"Yes."

Dick raised an eyebrow. "How'd you score that one? I mean, you're good, but cracking U.S. government spy satellite codes? Color me impressed."

"Actually, it's a Russian satellite. It's about fifteen years old and it hasn't had a software upgrade in ten. That made it a little easier - except for having to re-program it in Russian."

"If it's that old, what good will it do us? It won't have sufficient resolution to pick out a human figure, particularly one dressed in black who's trying to hide."

"The satellite can see in infrared."

Dick nodded. "His rocket trail."

"Exactly. If we can pick up that, we might be able to anticipate his moves. And there he is."

Bruce pointed at the map. There did seem to be a tiny hot spot, barely larger than a single pixel, making its way across the city.

Dick squinted. "Not very bright."

"No. His jets seem to be oddly cool. It fits in with the pattern, of course. Yet another piece of advanced technology."

"Think we can still follow him?"

Bruce was watching the screen. "He's heading for WayneTech. That's the second time."

"It makes sense. It's the tallest building in the city. From its roof, you can see almost everything."

Bruce stood up. "I'm going out there," he said.

"Are you sure you're up to it?"

Bruce went to a table and picked up two form-fitting braces. "These will protect my arm and knee. And I somehow don't think this man is dangerous in the conventional sense."

"All the same, I'm going with you. I'll stay out of your way," Dick added in response to Bruce's negative look. "But you might need backup if our laser-happy friend shows up again."

"I have no intention of being spotted by him tonight," Bruce said. "That building cost WayneTech's stockholders a lot of money."

*********

One advantage of WayneTech Enterprises was that it was perhaps the easiest place for Batman to get to. All he had to do was have Alfred drive him there. It was hardly suspicious for Bruce Wayne to show up at his company's headquarters at any time of night.

Bruce entered the building as himself, then took his private elevator to the top floor. On the way, he slipped out of his business suit and pulled on his cowl. The Batman exited the elevator into Bruce's office.

The first thing he did was activate the security camera that would show Bruce coming in and doing some trivial piece of work. Even in his own building, there were security concerns - it wouldn't do to have tapes showing Batman sneaking around. Then he powered up the computer, linked to the Batcomputer, and called up the satellite image. He looked carefully at the grainy image, but there was no sign of the traveling spot that might be the stranger's boots. Likely, he was still on the roof.

Batman slid open a hidden panel on one of the columns in the office, revealing a ladder. There were definite advantages to being on his own turf. 

* * * * *

It was cold on the roof. Batman's suit was designed to feel comfortable at a wide range of temperatures, but the wind bit through all the same. He ignored it, and concentrated on his target. The man in the black batsuit was indeed on the roof.

Batman slipped up close behind him, moving carefully and silently. He could hear the man muttering to himself.

"What the hell am I doing here?" he was saying. "How did I think I could do this by myself? I'm going to have to contact him, sooner or later. Better to do it sooner, while he's still alive."

Batman cleared his throat.

The man in black spun around, nearly losing his balance on the narrow ledge. His eyes went wide when he saw who was standing only three feet behind him. "Damn, you are good," he whispered.

"Nice to be appreciated," Batman said. "Care to explain what you're doing in my city?"

"I will," he said. "But not here. It's dangerous. Kruger could be watching, and I for one have had enough of dodging his plasma cannon."

"The feeling is mutual." Batman thought about the name, Kruger. It didn't ring any bells to him.

"We can talk inside, I presume?" 

Batman frowned. "What makes you think it would be safer to talk inside?"

"You wouldn't have it any other way, Mr. Wayne."

Batman struck quickly. He caught the black-suited man by the throat and pinned him against the roof. "How do you know that name?" he hissed.

"Wait! You don't understand - I'm on your side!"

Batman couldn't help but notice that his considerably powerful grip was hardly making a dent in the man's neck. The suit seemed to be tensing against his hand. "I've gathered we have a few things in common. That doesn't make you trustworthy."

"He'll spot you. He has infrared cameras. All he needs to do is look for a warm body on a rooftop. We don't have time for this!"

"Then talk! Now! _Who are you?_"

The man looked him straight in the eye. "I'm Batman."

Bruce felt a sudden chill, and it wasn't the wind. Over the years, he had acquired a very keen sense of how to tell when someone was lying. This man wasn't. He honestly believed what he said to be true, and he didn't seem crazy or delusional. This was no fanatic or madman; somehow, impossibly, this was the real thing. Another version of himself.

A familiar whine streaked by off to Batman's left. He dropped the man and leapt backward to the opposite side of the roof, pulling an explosive batarang. The craft he had seen before arced around the WayneTech building high and far out of range, sweeping across the sky like a flying saucer. Batman could see the cannon mounted at its front in profile, its long barrel pulsing red with power. But it wasn't pointed at him. It was aimed at the First Bank of Gotham Tower.

Never before had Bruce felt such a sudden, awful, gripping panic.

He whipped his arm around with all his strength, hurling his batarang at the craft that he knew was too far away. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the black-suited bat, leaping from the roof and flying at high speed toward the hovercraft. They were both too late.

A blinding flash of red lit up the night. The beam cut through the roof of the Bank Tower as easily as through the air, burning out the other side and terminating somewhere out in the industrial district. A second and then a third beam cut across the tower horizontally, slicing the massive structure in half. Like the Gotham Cathedral before it, the Bank Tower began to collapse.

Unlike the Cathedral, the Tower was occupied by hundreds of people.

And Nightwing. 

**TO BE CONTINUED...**


	4. Part IV

**The Once and Future Bat**

a **Batman Beyond** fanfic  
by**  
Mike Yamiolkoski  
**  
  
  
  
** PART FOUR**

Batman didn't hesitate for another moment. He ran as fast as he could toward the edge of the roof, ignoring the pain in his knee, and leaped far out into the night toward the falling skyscraper. The wind caught his cape as he plunged, faster and faster, his eyes watching for any sign of life on the collapsing roof of the Bank Tower. Billowing clouds of dust obscured his vision before he could see anything at all.

His batline whipped through the air, its hook shooting into the rapidly expanding debris cloud and into one of the solid stone columns of the Stock Exchange Building across the street. The line tensed and yanked Batman away from the falling building, swinging him around in a wide arc.

Bruce didn't think about the hovercraft that might have been lining him up in its crosshairs. He ignored the screaming nerves in his injured arm, the choking dust that enveloped him as his path took him into the thick, gritty clouds that rose above the dying skyscraper. He gave no thought even to the people who were being crushed by thousands of tons of stone and steel, people he could do nothing for in any event. He forgot completely about the encounter he'd just had on the rooftop with his strange alter ego. His mind was focused on one thing alone: Dick Grayson.

His partner. His friend. The closest thing he would ever have to a son.

Another batline fired into the night. Batman let go of the first one and let the second sweep him into a more controlled descent. The bulk of the building hit the ground before he did, and he felt the shake of its impact through the line. A burst gas main erupted into a bright orange fireball that was quickly choked by dust and smoke. Batman's eyes were narrowed to slits against the hailstorm of masonry chunks and slivers of glass, his lungs starving for air. The street was still five meters below his feet when he dropped.

Batman hit the ground on his good leg and rolled, tumbling over to absorb the impact, then sprang to his feet. He whipped a filter mask from his belt and slapped it over his nose and mouth, finally drawing breath. The dust was still blinding. There was no sign of life, no way to see it even a few feet away.

A final column collapsed into the pile of rubble, and an eerie silence ensued.

Not quite true silence, but quiet indeed after the thunder of so many tons of stone and steel hitting the ground. Bits of gravel and glass fell with a sound like hard rain, and the groaning of settling rubble seemed almost human.

Then, there was a real human sound. A cry of pain.

Batman pulled his cape over his face for further protection as he struggled blindly over the mountain of shattered stone and twisted metal. He slid down a mangled steel column, clambered over glass-strewn piles, strained his ears to hear the sound of whomever it was that needed his help.

Something else was falling now. Office paper, a blizzard of files and memos, fluttering down like snow from the smoke-clouded sky. Some of it would likely drift for miles, and come down all over the city.

The cry for help didn't come again. Sirens wailed in the distance.

Batman carried on through the hellscape of smoking, ruined debris, fighting against the pain of his own injuries, searching for anyone whom he could help. He clung to the hope that somewhere, Nightwing might be among the survivors, but even if he wasn't... no, he had to be. Nightwing was well-trained and skilled to deal with such a disaster. He would have saved himself.

Another low moan off to Batman's left caught his attention. He narrowed his eyes against a breeze that carried sharp splinters of stone, and finally saw the hand beneath a fallen ventilation shaft. A bloodied, quivering hand, reaching out to anyone who could help him.

Batman limped over to the shaft and gripped it in his good hand, lifting with all his considerable strength. The shaft groaned, but refused to move.

Quickly he moved around to the other side of the shaft. The rest of the man's body was visible - only his arm was trapped. Batman moved to his side and felt the neck for a pulse.

The man's eyes fluttered open. "B-Batman?" he whispered.

"Lie still," Batman replied. "You've been injured. I'm here to help you."

"What... what..."

"The building collapsed. Now keep still. Concentrate on breathing."

The man seemed to understand. He nodded and closed his eyes, tears streaming out of the corners.

Batman looked up and saw the dust lit by the strobes and flashers of the emergency vehicles. It might be several minutes before anyone got to where he was - he needed to alert the rescuers. Digging into his utility belt, he withdrew an explosive batarang, set a short timer on it, and hurled it into the air.

The tiny bomb popped high overhead.

Within seconds, Batman heard the firemen coming towards him. He waited next to his charge for them to arrive, watching the man breathe.

One life saved. Hundreds lost.

* * * * *

Batman stayed for as long as he could, assisting in any way possible with the rescue operations. It was a new experience for him - working directly with the police and fire department instead of in the shadows. Commissioner Gordon was there, of course.

"You're hurt," he said when he saw Batman stumble on his way back into the wreckage to try and find another survivor.

"Not seriously."

"The fact that you're even admitting it's true means that it is serious."

Batman ignored the Commissioner.

"Batman, we have practically the entire force here now. You've been a tremendous help, but we can handle it from here. I know you're not good at taking orders, so take some advice. Go home, wherever home is for you."

"I have to stay."

"No."

Batman turned around. "I'm looking for someone. I won't leave until I find him."

Commissioner Gordon stepped closer. "Nightwing?"

"Yes."

"Do you know for sure he was here?"

"He was here."

"And you haven't heard from him?"

Batman was silent again.

Gordon stopped short of putting a hand on Batman's shoulder, but his voice was comforting. "We'll do our best to find him. That's a promise. In the meantime, your injuries are making you more of a liability here than an asset."

Batman fired a glare at the Commissioner.

Gordon stared him down with equal intensity. "Batman, I've placed enormous trust in you over the years. Trust my judgment now. Let my people handle this. They're good at their jobs."

Batman stood as if engraved in marble, his appearance made even more so by the white concrete dust that covered him nearly head to foot. "Promise me this," he whispered. "If you find him... don't take off the mask."

"I swear it," the Commissioner replied.

Batman walked slowly away, defeat in his every step.

* * * * *

Bruce Wayne sat silently in his living room, his thoughts and feelings hidden behind an impenetrable mask. Alfred sat as well, the tea he had brought growing cold between them.

"Has there been any sign of the other, er, 'batman'?" Alfred asked, his thin, quiet voice intruding on the oppressive silence.

Bruce shook his head minutely.

The silence went on, hour after hour.

* * * * *

The sun peeked through the eastern windows of Wayne Manor, shining golden on Bruce's still form. Alfred had fallen asleep in his chair, but Bruce could not.

A tapping at the front door roused them both.

Bruce stood quickly and gripped a wooden cane, limping toward the door. A lump rose in his throat, one that he no longer possessed the self-control to swallow down. He pulled the door open without looking to see who was there -

It was Commissioner Gordon.

"We found him," the Commissioner said softly.

Bruce couldn't speak.

"Won't you come in, sir," Alfred said quietly. The Commissioner entered the house and let the door close behind him.

Bruce and Gordon sat in the study while Alfred went to obtain some fresh tea. He was under no illusion that either of them would want any, but he assumed they would want time alone.

"Did anyone else see his face?" Bruce asked in a quiet whisper.

"No," Gordon replied. "His mask had been torn off, but I was the only one who saw him. I covered his face and traveled with him to the morgue. No one else knows."

"So now you know," Bruce said woodenly. As difficult as it was to talk about this, it would be even harder to talk about Dick Grayson's death.

"I always had a feeling," Gordon said. "You and he have a similar set of values." He sighed. "This is not how I wanted to find out."

Bruce nodded.

Commissioner Gordon stood. "I should go," he said. "Things will be very busy for the next few hours. Or days. Who knows when we'll be able to get some rest. And I'll need your help, if you still feel you can provide it."

Bruce nodded again. His face was a mask far more impenetrable than the cowl of the Bat.

Gordon turned to leave, but paused at the doorway. "There was something I never got to tell you before that I'd like to tell you now," he said quietly. "For what it's worth... thank you."

* * * * *

Bruce flexed his arm within the Batsuit's sleeve, testing its flexibility. "Stiff. Perhaps too stiff. Alfred?"

Alfred checked the display on the Batcomputer. "I detect no infrared signature, sir."

"Then it works. We'll treat the rest of the suit." Bruce pulled on a protective mask, went back to the mannequin that held the rest of the suit, and began spraying it all over with a fine mist. It would impede his movements, but if it prevented another tragedy like the Bank Tower, it was well worth it. Bruce had no intention of hiding out in the Batcave while Dick Grayson's killer ran around loose.

It was personal now.

Even Alfred showed an unusually hard-steel resolve as they prepared the suit and utility belt for Bruce's next trip into the city. There had been none of his usual insistence on caution or restraint. There was anger in the Batcave. It hung like a red mist in the air.

"Sir, have you considered what your next move should be?"

"I'm going out looking for the man in black. And this time, I'm not coming back without him." Bruce finished spraying the suit, removed his mask, and began undressing the mannequin. "Alfred, would you please inform Tim Drake and Barbara Gordon of what's happened? They need to know."

"Yes, sir."

"And tell them they need to stay off the street and out of costume. Make it clear that I mean it. I won't have anyone else placed in danger."

"Of course."

Bruce went back to the computer. "The satellite should still be picking up the rocket trail from his boots. Let's see where he's been lately." He began to call up the appropriate screen. "Alfred, perhaps you could arrange for breakfast. It's been a while."

Alfred nodded and headed up the stairs.

After checking the satellite and finding nothing, Bruce called up his personal files. He entered the name KRUGER and waited for something to come up. Nothing did.

He tried a search on all of Gotham, under different spelling variations. There were over a hundred people in the city with that name. Cross-checking them for criminal records came up with nothing more noteworthy than speeding tickets. Nothing more noteworthy than speeding tickets...

Bruce shook his head. He was tired, and his mind was getting foggy. Over the past five days, he'd had three hours of sleep. It was nothing he hadn't done before, but never under such stressful circumstances. Like it or not, he would have to get some sleep; to continue on exhausted was to play into his opponent's hand.

Who could it be? And who was this mysterious new Batman?

Bruce tackled the problem from another angle, going down the list of known enemies who might potentially be capable of the laser attacks. In reality, none of them really were, but perhaps going down the list would give him a clue.

The Joker was out, he'd just been returned to Arkham. The Penguin was at large, but it wasn't his style - besides, he had been turning his concerns toward more "businesslike" pursuits lately, fencing stolen goods and smuggling. Rupert Thorne was a reasonable possibility, except that he had considerable interests in the Bank Tower that had recently been leveled. Two-Face was ruthless enough (at least half of him was) but he generally preferred to personally involve himself in his crimes, and this assassin was staying out of sight. There was also a lack of the "two" symbolism so common to his plots. Several names could be eliminated out of hand: Killer Croc, Scarecrow, Poison Ivy - it just wasn't their M.O. This was getting nowhere.

Bruce went back to the Kruger list, to try the process of elimination there. He eliminated every name under the age of 16, and two who were hospitalized. Grimly, he noted that one of them was listed as having been brought in from the Bank Tower collapse. It was a possible connection, but unlikely, considering this particular Kruger was a vending machine repairman, not someone able to get his hands on military laser weapons. He went further down the list, looking at occupations. Teacher, nurse, fireman, high-school student, retired airline pilot, graduate student, accountant, paralegal...

His mind began to wander again. Bruce sighed and sat back in his chair. This was getting him nowhere, and his sleepy mind wasn't up for it. He decided to allow himself a ten-minute catnap, and closed his eyes.

High-tech weaponry, flying hovercraft, a "Batman" in black... what could it all mean? Where was the connection? Someone was out to kill him, not Bruce, but Batman... why? Revenge, most likely, but that hardly narrowed the list. His thoughts, disorganizing as he drifted further toward sleep, returned to the hidden face of the man who called himself Batman. He could fly, he could lift tons of steel, he could make himself invisible and... he had recognized Bruce through his disguise. No, he seemed to recognize the disguise itself, not the man within it. An old Bruce Wayne, leaning on a cane, fired on from the sky by a weapon of the future -

Bruce bolted awake. "Of the future..." he whispered.

Or... _**from** the future?_

It was impossible. It was absurd. It couldn't be. But... was it true?

Only one man had the answer to that. Bruce pushed away from the computer, all thought of sleep forgotten. He pulled the rest of the Batsuit from its mannequin and began to pack it into a briefcase.

"Sir?" Alfred asked as he came down the stairs. "Have you found something?"

"I'd rather not say," Bruce said as he stepped into the boots, which would look ordinary enough under his suit pants. "I'd prefer you didn't think I'd lost my mind. To be honest, I'm not sure that I haven't."

"Indeed, sir," Alfred said, and began packing up Bruce's breakfast so that he might eat it on the way to... wherever he was going. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Yes. Call Lucius Fox at WayneTech, and tell him to send the entire staff home. I mean everybody. I don't want one single person in the building. Tell him it's because we feel that it might be a potential target, that's true enough." Bruce snapped the case shut and stepped into the elevator that led to the garage.

"I'll be back with a guest," he told Alfred, as the doors closed. "Or I won't be back at all."

  
**TO BE CONTINUED...**

Note to my readers: I humbly request that you do not give away critical plot elements in the reviews.


	5. Part V

**The Once and Future Bat**

a **Batman Beyond** fanfic  
by**  
Mike Yamiolkoski  
**  
  
  
  
** PART FIVE**

Bruce arrived at WayneTech as the last few employees were leaving the building. He was pleased to see that Lucius Fox was personally seeing to it that everyone was accounted for.

"Mr. Wayne!" Fox called as Bruce came in, and hustled over to speak with his boss. "We've taken care of everything. The people should all be out within the next few minutes, and I've made sure that the network backup discs and the important files have been loaded into one of the company limousines."

"Good work, Lucius," Bruce said grimly. "There are some items I need to get from my office. I don't want you to wait around for me. Would you mind taking the discs and files to your home? It's as safe a place as any."

"Of course, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce nodded. Lucius lived almost thirty miles outside of Gotham; sending him home lessened the chance that he might want to return while Bruce was still there.

"Are you all right, sir?" Lucius asked. "Forgive me, but you seem preoccupied with more than just the evacuation."

"It's a personal matter, Lucius," Bruce replied. "I'll tell you another time. Right now, let's attend to the business at hand."

"Certainly." Lucius went back to the main doors to check the count of people while Bruce headed for his private elevator.

* * * * *

Bruce Wayne didn't bother changing into the Batsuit, nor did he call up the image of the satellite display on his computer. He simply sat behind his desk and waited. If this "Batman" was in any way worthy of the name, he would come in due time.

For two hours, Bruce waited.

The window behind him opened. The alarm it would have normally set off had been silenced by Bruce when he arrived. He didn't turn around - he didn't move at all. He simply said, "You're late."

"You were expecting me?" replied the voice behind him.

"I did everything but send you an invitation. You should have been here much sooner."

"I was being careful. I didn't want to be seen."

Bruce turned around at last and faced the black suited man. "The mask. Remove it."

The man hesitated a moment, then pulled the cowl from his face. Bruce was surprised enough to raise an eyebrow. The face under the mask wasn't that of a man, but a boy. He couldn't have been more than seventeen.

"What is your name?"

"McGinnis. Terry McGinnis."

"Mr. McGinnis, I have some understanding of who you are, how you know me, and why you're here. Be that as it may, I still want the entire truth from you, here and now. You have sixty minutes."

The boy sat down on the window ledge, looking as exhausted as Bruce felt. "Can I ask a question first?"

Bruce nodded.

"What happened to Nightwing?"

"He is dead," Bruce said, his voice devoid of any emotion.

McGinnis lowered his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"You have fifty-nine minutes left." 

Terry stood up. "This is going to sound a little crazy... but I'm from the future."

He waited for some response, but none was forthcoming. Bruce sat as if made of wood.

"Fifty years from now, you and I will meet for the first time. I was on the run from some Jokerz -" again, Bruce raised an eyebrow "- and you helped me fight them off. I remember being pretty impressed that a ninety-year-old-man could move the way you did. But you were sick, and I helped you back to your house. I stumbled across the entrance to the Batcave, learned who you really were. But a few minutes later, you threw me out." Terry paused. "You don't believe me, do you? You think I'm some kind of nutcase."

"Please continue, Mr. McGinnis."

"Look, I can prove to you that I'm from the future! This suit, it's cutting-edge technology in my time. And the laser cannon that Kruger's been firing around the city, you must realize that it's not from the world you know! You have to believe me! Everyone's life depends on it!"

Bruce slammed his hand down on the desk, making Terry jump. "Mr. McGinnis! I don't have time for childish hysterics. As it happens, I  do believe you. Either what you say is true, or someone has gone through a ludicrous amount of effort to deceive me. While I don't rule out the second possibility, investigation in that direction is futile, and for the time being you are the only source of answers I have. I had hoped we could do this in a calm and rational manner, but I no longer have the patience. I don't care how we met, or how you came to wear that suit and assume you have the right to call yourself Batman. I want to know who is trying to kill me and how to stop him before any more innocent lives are lost!"

Wide-eyed, Terry continued. "His name is Gene Kruger. He's a physicist. I don't know his whole story, but apparently he was working on some kind of matter-transference device using government grant money. When the grants weren't renewed, he turned to other sources. Somehow he managed to convince some local crime boss that his machine could work and could be used to transport valuables out of bank vaults, or files out of locked offices, or gold bullion out of Fort Knox. But before he could perfect it, you busted the gang and he was carted off to prison as an accomplice. Oh, and he was apparently blinded in the scuffle, something I guess he blamed you for."

"I don't know any Gene Kruger," Bruce said. "And I've never heard of anything like what you're talking about."

"Then it hasn't happened yet," Terry said with a shrug. "Of course, the timeline's so screwed up by now, it probably never will, which kind of begs the question of how he and I are both here. I don't have answers for that kind of stuff, I barely passed applied calculus."

"I'll remind you that my patience is very thin right now. Tell me more about Kruger."

"He stayed locked up for twenty years before he was paroled - I guess they tied him in with some pretty serious stuff. In the meantime, all his work was discredited, and of course he couldn't get a job anywhere with his record. So he apparently went back to the mob. I suppose they still had a use for an egghead, even one who couldn't see. This is where it gets a little fuzzy, because by that time you were more or less retired, and it was about when you were telling me this part that all hell broke loose. But one thing I do know is that somewhere along the lines, probably while he was still locked up, Kruger started applying his theories of matter transference to something else. Something he called 'temporal transference'."

* * * * *

_**- FIFTY YEARS IN THE FUTURE -**_

_Terry tailed the large cargo craft at a discrete distance and let his tracer do the work of keeping tabs on his quarry. Mr. Wayne insisted that this particular theft was tied in to the various other high-tech hijackings that had been plaguing Gotham lately. How exactly he knew that, Terry had no idea, especially since the pattern was completely different. The other robberies had been convoluted and intricately planned almost to the point of absurdity - this one was a simple hit-and-run, with no attempt to disguise it. Terry gave it about two minutes before the police joined the chase. To be fair, the only reason he'd beaten them to the punch was that he'd been in the right place at the right time._

_"Mr. Wayne, I've got a bad feeling about this."_

_"So you should." Wayne's gruff voice came through the suit radio._

_"I keep wondering if I should be looking out for something else. This was so obvious, it might be a decoy."_

_"I can't fault your thinking. But a more disturbing possibility is that the perpetrators are so near the completion of their plans, they no longer feel the need for secrecy. You've dealt with Cobras before, you know they play for high stakes."_

_"You're the boss." Terry gained some altitude and took up a high surveillance position above his target. If need be, he could be right on top of them in less than half a minute, but the odds that they could see him were low. "Listen, have you got any idea what they're actually up to? I mean, I'd like to have some idea of what I'm about to get into here."_

_"I'm afraid not. The components they're taking don't seem to be parts of anything in particular. But they're not being chosen at random, either - it's all state-of-the-art materials. The only thing to worry about by itself is the laser cannon that disappeared from the Gotham Armory."_

_"Hang on a sec." Terry checked his readouts. "He's slowing down. He seems to be stopping in the condemned district, by the old fusion plant."_

_"Make your move. But be careful."_

_"Count on it." Terry directed the Batmobile over the older section of Gotham where his target had stopped, put the Batmobile on autopilot, and with no more than a deep breath to prepare, dropped out of the bottom hatch at an altitude of three thousand feet. He speared down out of the sky, plummeting quickly and silently towards the old, abandoned fusion power plant._

_* * * * *_

_"Kruger!"_

_Gene Kruger didn't bother to turn at the sound of the voice. He continued his fine adjustments on the console, sliding two bare wires against each other, feeling for the right resistance to the circuit. He heard soft feet approaching him from behind._

_"If one of you grabs me and makes me slip," he said quietly, "the resulting electric shock could well kill us both."_

_The footsteps stopped. Kruger found the setting he was looking for, tightened down the connection, and finally stood. "What can I do for you gentlemen?"_

_"Face the King Cobra when you address him!" shouted a burly Cobra bodyguard._

_Kruger obliged, even though the helmet he wore obscured his eyes._

_The King Cobra, a slim, young man who hardly seemed old enough for the job, stepped forward so as not to be compelled to look upwards at Kruger. "You have violated our trust," he said simply. "Please explain to me why we should not now carve you into pieces to feed the cloning vats."_

_Kruger faced the King Cobra with equanimity. "My machine is very nearly complete. It required but one last component. I wished to have it here as quickly as possible."_

_"You have betrayed us!" the King hissed, much like the snake his costume made him resemble. "We have spent years - years, mind you! working with an unprecedented level of care and precision to prevent the authorities from discovering us here. We have used every means at our disposal, sacrificed the lives of loyal Cobras, placed other vital plans on hold to accomplish what he have here. Then, because you grow impatient, you destroy our secrecy in one stroke! The police are probably on their way here already, damn you!"_

_Kruger shook his head. "It makes no difference," he said. "My machine is ready. Nothing else matters."_

_"You will learn what it means to defy and betray the King Cobra."_

_"Kill me now," Kruger said, "and all will truly be for nothing. Only I can activate this machine. And only in the machine is your salvation."_

_* * * * *_

_Batman slipped into the huge facility's main reactor room silently and invisibly - or almost silently. He couldn't repress a gasp at what he saw._

_From the spread below him, it seemed that they had only been aware of a tenth of the Cobras' take. The scene resembled a spacecraft launching facility in size and complexity; a jumble of controls, a maze of cables, high columns of steel supporting massive structures that Terry couldn't begin to identify. At the center of it all, illuminated by blinding white lights and wired at thousand different contact points to everything else in the room, was a towering arch of mirror-polished metal. Or rather, a circle, as Terry looked closer and saw that half of it extended below the floor and met itself at its bottom. And at the center of the circle was the fusion reactor sphere itself, looking much better than it should have after twenty years of neglect._

_"Someone's been busy," Bruce said in his ear._

_Terry didn't respond, but concentrated on keeping quiet and moving as stealthily as he could toward the only people in the room. It looked like the King Cobra himself was in on this one, but he couldn't tell who the others were._

_"Go back for a moment," Bruce said. "Get a better look at the man the King is talking to."_

_Terry did so. He was surprised to see a that the man was masked - or was it a helmet? Whatever it was, it completely covered the upper half of his face, including his eyes._

_"Interesting," Bruce said. "Are you close enough yet to eavesdrop?"_

_Terry held out two fingers and activated the sonic pickups._

_"...will truly be for nothing. Only I can activate this machine. And only in the machine is your salvation."_

_"I grow weary of your promises, Dr. Kruger. I grow angry at your incompetence. Your experiments are at an end as of this moment. Your machine will be dismantled and you shall pay for this blatant fraud with your life. And we shall take a very, very long time indeed in extracting that payment."_

_"The police, as you say, are probably on their way here," Kruger said. "My machine can save all of us, and with the knowledge I have gained from building it, I can easily construct another in only two months time at a tiny fraction of the cost."_

_"You expect us to continue financing your mad experiments when you give us nothing in return?"_

_"Look there," Kruger said, pointing at the center of his apparatus. There was a small metallic cube there that Terry hadn't noticed until it was specifically pointed out._

_"What of it?" asked the King Cobra._

_Kruger gestured to a small enclosure just to his left. A sudden flash of light erupted from within it, accompanied by a loud bang. Terry winced as his sonic pickups toned down the volume just an instant too late. When he looked back at the box, he was surprised to see a second cube sitting inside it._

_"Now," Kruger said, "Observe." He moved a lever on is control panel. The large circle lit up around its circumference, and began to slowly turn end over end over the cube on the platform. As the circle brightened and the power cycled up, a field of energy formed across its center, bisecting the cube. As the field passed around the cube, it seemed to slice it right out of existence. The power cycled down, and the platform was empty._

_"Conjuring tricks will not impress me," the King said sardonically._

_"Do you not see what I have done?" Kruger asked, suddenly animated and even a bit frantic. "I have, for the first time in the history of the universe, sent a material object into the past! The cube here in this enclosure is the same one that was on the platform a moment ago! I sent it half a minute into the past, and there it sits before us!"_

_"He's crazy," Terry murmured._

_"Don't be so sure," Bruce said in his ear. "I've had some experience dealing with Dr. Gene Kruger. He was involved with the Thorne syndicate years ago. If I recall correctly, he was working on practical matter transference. Looks like he's managed to do one better."_

_"You think that was for real? Get serious, he's just trying to put one over on the Cobras!"_

_"I know him. He's mad, but he isn't delusional. It's just within the realm of possibility that he's managed to do what he says. And if he has, you need to destroy it!"_

_"Why?"_

_"A machine like that in anyone's hands is dangerous. A machine like that in the hands of Dr. Kruger or the Cobras is terrifying."_

_"All right, I'll bust it up. Where are the police?"_

_"Delayed. There's a major fire a few blocks away from you. You're on your own for at least ten minutes."_

_"Swell." Terry moved stealthily down a support column toward the floor. "What else can you tell me that might be useful?"_

_"Kruger's more dangerous in a fight than he looks. His helmet gives him three-hundred-sixty degree vision, in any wavelength. The only reason he hasn't seen you already, despite the cloaking field, is that he's being a bit careless. Without the helmet, he's blind. Go for the helmet first."_

_"Schway."_

_Terry continued to creep down the wall while Kruger recomposed himself. "Your highness, forgive me. Obviously one demonstration is insufficient. Allow me to demonstrate further. This is a second experiment I had arranged, in case the police came too close." Kruger activated a second lever. The machine cycled up once again, even as a cart holding a small package rolled automatically into the center of the circle. It, too, met the field within the circle and vanished from sight._

_"That package," said Kruger as the noise died, "was a powerful explosive device, loaded with highly flammable material. It has been sent five minutes into the past, and two miles away, where it exploded just a few minutes ago. As a result, the police have their hands full with other matters besides ourselves."_

_"Did you catch that, Bruce?" Terry whispered. "Is that for real?"_

_"It's hard to say," Bruce said. "Though reports say the fire started very suddenly. It could be."_

_"Well, I'm convinced," Terry said, flexing out an explosive batarang._

_"Terry, don't!"_

_"Intruder!" Kruger shouted._

_Terry was startled, then noticed too late that his batarang wasn't covered by the suit's cloaking field, and that Kruger, with literal eyes in the back of his head, had spotted it. "Oh, crap," Terry whispered._

_The Cobra bodyguards pulled out plasma rifles and opened fire on him. Terry leapt from the column, dropping down below the floor and flaring his wings out to slow his plummet at the last moment. He landed hard on the lower level but rolled with the impact and got to his feet quickly._

_"To the platform!" Kruger shouted. "I've set it to send us six months into the past, into another facility where I can build my next machine. Quickly!"_

_The King Cobra dashed for the platform. Terry paused under a set of enormous power transformers, and took a moment to set one of his explosives. If he could manage to disable the machine in time, he could still trap them here._

_The huge circle had begun to power up again. Terry ran for it, tossing his batarang in front of him. The field appeared within the circle just as the batarang struck - and disappeared into the past._

_Several plasma bolts burned through the floor just at his feet. Terry jumped to one side and rolled behind a pair of large cabinets, where he set another bomb. The King Cobra had reached the platform, and the circle began its slow swoop down on top of him. His men joined him._

_"Kruger! Come quickly!" the King shouted._

_Kruger ran, but stopped short at the edge of the platform. As the circle's field engulfed the King and his guards, Kruger actually waved his farewell, saying, "Enjoy the late Cretaceous period, my reptilian friends..."_

_Their sudden screams of terror were cut off as the field sliced them out of reality._

_Terry moved again, running under the circle itself as it swung back upwards. Rather than powering down, it seemed to be speeding up and cycling more power. He couldn't attach a bomb to the circle itself, and so dropped one on the floor just below it. Then he fired his jets to take him up through a gap in the floor to the main level._

_There was no sign of Kruger._

_"Ah, Batman," came a voice over a speaker system. "Or some reasonable facsimile. It's ironic you should be here, actually. In a way, you're about to witness your own demise."_

_"Not likely," Terry growled, and touched off his bombs._

_Blasts erupted from the three points where he'd set the explosives. One entire side of the catwalk dropped away, while the second one he'd dropped by the cabinets took out some major support beams and sparked a blazing inferno._

_The third failed to detonate. The power from the apparatus interfered with its signal, and Terry noticed that Bruce's radio signal was also obscured by static._

_"Fool!" shouted Kruger's voice. "Do you really think I needed all that? My controls are better-protected than that, and my machine is indestructible once acitvated. Feel free to toss more bombs at it if you want them going off at random times and places somewhere in the past. Perhaps you'll even kill your own grandfather and cause a pretty little paradox, hm?"_

_Terry waited on the platform just outside the spinning circle's reach. Kruger couldn't harm him by talking at him, and sooner or later he was bound to make a run for the platform - it was his only means of escape._

_More of the catwalk crashed to the ground as the fire weakened the steel support beams. If enough of them fell, the entire apparatus would collapse, and despite Kruger's boasting, that would likely destroy it. That meant he was bound to make his move soon. Perhaps Terry could keep him talking long enough to make him miss his chance._

_"So run into the past," Terry called out. "Build another machine, if you can. I can find that one too."_

_"You found this one because I led you to it," Kruger yelled. "I wanted you here. I wanted you to witness this moment. And, just between us, I don't particularly care about building another machine. This one will serve its purpose nicely, now that those treacherous snakes are out of the way."_

_"What purpose?"_

_"I'm glad you asked," Kruger's voice boomed. "To coin a phrase: The Untimely Death of the Batman!"_

_Terry tensed, prepared to dodge._

_"Not you, you insufferable fraud!" Kruger shouted. "I want the one, true Batman! The one who robbed me of my sight, stole my life! I will go back to destroy him before he even knows I exist - and, as an added bonus, destroy you as well!"_

_A piercing whine split the air off to Terry's right. He activated his rockets and leaped into the air just as a brilliant red slash of light burned through the floor he'd occupied a moment before. He turned in mid-air and saw a small hovercraft, with a powerful laser cannon mounted at the front, burst from a darkened corner of the room and curve toward the now brilliantly lit and rapidly swooping circle. Terry fired two batarangs at the craft, but they disappeared as they passed over the platform._

_He dove headlong toward the craft, knowing he couldn't possibly intercept it._

_The hovercraft slipped into the center of the platform as the great circle swept downwards, then caught the leading edge of its field on the upswing. In a blinding blaze of white light, the entire craft vanished from sight - gone into the past._

_Terry threw out his wings to slow his descent. The apparatus was collapsing around him. He had only seconds to decide what to do, and Bruce couldn't help him. He had to make the call on his own._

_Without further hesitation, Terry turned head down and dove headfirst into the center of the spinning circle._

_And the universe went mad._

_* * * * *_

_Light without light. A blaze of pure, fierce, primeval energy that burned like a thousand suns._

_A vortex, spinning into infinity, tunneling straight into his mind and out the other side, turning him inside out and upside down and through dimensions he couldn't begin to fathom, dropping him into the Void._

_His mind pulled free of his body, his soul wrenched away from his mind. All that he was fell into a singular point and vanished from the universe, yet still he fell, on and on, in a direction that was neither down nor up nor any way that he could name, but he plummeted all the same, his consciousness screaming, his sanity ripped away._

_And the pain, the pain, the terrible, soul-searing pain..._

_It ended in a flash of pure white._

_* * * * *_

_Terry fully expected to be dead. It was with some degree of shock that he opened his eyes and learned that wasn't so._

_The moon was the first thing he saw, bright and full. That seemed odd for some reason, though he couldn't quite imagine why. For the moment, he couldn't even remember who he was._

_As if waking from a terrible dream, his reality came back to him in a rush. Terry lay at the bottom of a hole, a crater, like something made from a meteor. He tried to move, but the half-faded memory of intense, unimaginable pain momentarily paralyzed him. It was almost a full minute, or so it seemed, that he could force himself to lift an arm, shift a leg. His circulation rushed into his extremities with a burning of pins and needles that hurt in its intensity, but that discomfort would fade._

_Terry moved his hands beneath him and pushed into an upright position. The hole wasn't deep, and he crawled out with a groan. Little flames danced around him, a bit of wood here and a stack of papers there that had caught fire. He ignored it, and turned his face back to the full moon._

_Before his trip through the machine, it had been nothing more than a slim crescent._

_"I'll be damned," Terry whispered. "The son-of-a-bitch really did it."_

_A high-pitched squeal reached his ears, like a siren. Terry realized after a moment that it was a siren, though different from the ones he was used to. He stood up, testing his legs gingerly, and looked around the sky. There was no sign of approaching craft._

_Wait. The sound of the sirens was coming from the ground level._

_Terry took in the alley at a glance, and saw a ladder leading up the side of a nearby building. He grabbed the lower rung and pulled himself up, unwilling to use his rockets and attract further attention. The climb was relatively easy despite the numbness in his limbs, as the suit seemed to be working properly and was giving him considerable help. He reached the roof in seconds, just as ground vehicles with flashing red and blue lights pulled into the alley.__The smell of oily smoke wafted upward - internal combustion engines. He really was in the past. But how far? Thirty, fifty, a hundred years? Terry wished he'd paid more attention in history class._

_He noticed a red tag on a steel box next to him, and took a closer look. "INSPECTED (date) 07-99" Well, that helped to narrow it down a bit. He looked around the sky again, but could see no sign of Kruger or his hovercraft._

_Back down in the alley, police officers were getting out of their vehicles. Terry assumed that was what they were, though he wondered why they weren't dressed in helmets and body armor. Surely police work was as dangerous in this era as his own - he thought they would have had some regard for their personal safety. Fire trucks had arrived as well, but the little hot spots caused by Terry's arrival had already gone out._

_His limbs felt almost normal, as the sensation of pins and needles began to fade. He mind felt like it had gone through a wringer, however - as if he hadn't slept in weeks. The adrenaline rush of the experience was wearing off, and a cold fatigue was settling on him like a blanket of snow. Terry found he was fighting to stay alert._

_The police were shining lights around the alley, and some of them were beginning to look at the surrounding buildings. Quickly Terry activated the suit's cloaking shield, and was pleased to see that it still worked. He vanished from sight just as one of the police swept a light across his face._

_The surface of the roof was covered with tiny stones, making quiet movement difficult. Terry crept over to a short wall of brick and jumped up to the top of it, walked along it as far as he could, then dropped back to the main surface of the roof and -_

_Stopped._

_Someone else was on the roof._

_Terry remained as still as he could, barely daring to breathe. He'd only been there for a few minutes - was he already about to meet the Batman? Bruce Wayne himself, in his prime? And if he did, how could he possible explain himself?_

_But it wasn't Batman that crept stealthily onto the roof. His costume was black and dark blue, his mask covered only his eyes, and his hair was long and free. Nightwing. Terry swallowed hard. Nothing had made this so real as encountering this man who he'd known only in legend. He crossed the rooftop in total silence and looked over the edge at the activity below. Terry hoped that perhaps the distraction would be enough for him to get away unnoticed, and made to creep over to the other side of the roof. He took a step -_

_Nightwing spun around as if a firecracker had gone off, and leapt behind a large steel duct. A batarang, or something very like it, flashed in his hand. Terry cursed inwardly._

_"Show yourself!" Nightwing whispered, "I know you're there!"_

_Terry waited, hoping for a noise from the alley to mask his footsteps. His limbs still didn't respond properly, and he couldn't be as silent as he needed to. In his very effort to stay motionless, however, his foot slipped minutely across the gravel._

_Terry didn't stand still and wait for the inevitable attack. He leaped to one side, narrowly avoiding Nightwing's expert throw. All attempt at stealth abandoned, Terry made a run for the edge of the roof. With the suit's enhancement, he knew he could outrun any human being, even Nightwing._

_He heard a whistle of another batarang, and ducked - but not quickly enough. A shock of fire arced through his body, and he couldn't choke down a scream of pain. The suit's sensors momentarily winked out from overload, and somewhere in the back of his mind Terry knew he'd lost his invisibility cloak as well, perhaps permanently._

_Before he had the chance to get to his feet again, Nightwing was upon him, locking his arms above his head in a simple but very effective wrestling hold. Terry knew he could break free through brute force, breaking his opponent's arms if necessary, but he couldn't bring himself to do it._

_Fortunately, Nightwing made a grab for his cowl. With one arm free, Terry was able to duck and flip his opponent off his back. He got up and ran again for the edge, leaped into the night, firing his rockets and leaving the police and Nightwing behind him._

  
**TO BE CONTINUED...**


	6. Part VI

**The Once and Future Bat**

a **Batman Beyond** fanfic  
by**  
Mike Yamiolkoski  
**  
  
  
  
** PART SIX**

"The rest, I'm sure you know," Terry said. "I went to the top of the tallest building in town - this one - to see if I could spot Kruger. I saw what he did to the cathedral, and went to investigate, but since there was no sign of you there I assumed you'd gotten away. Then... I was too tired. I went to the closest safe place I could find and passed out. You wouldn't believe the dreams I had - time travel messes with your head." 

Bruce waited in silence for a moment. 

"I eventually found the tracer Nightwing fired at me, and destroyed it," Terry went on. "I wasn't sure it was a good idea to get in touch with you. I've seen enough cheesy sci-fi vids to know that messing with the timeline is bad. But by now, it's so messed with, it doesn't matter anyway." 

"Why didn't you stay and help the victims from the Bank Tower collapse?" Bruce asked. 

"I... I thought I should chase down Kruger. I tried to hit him with one of my tracers, but it missed. I thought it was better to stop him from striking again." 

"You should have stayed to help the people. The criminals can be caught later, the lives of the people can't be restored once they're lost. I find it hard to believe that I could become so callous in my old age that I would forget to teach you that much." 

"But -" Terry's shoulders slumped. "You're right. I'm sorry." 

"There will be time for that later. Or, perhaps not. But now isn't the time to dwell on lives lost." His own words notwithstanding, Bruce paused a moment before going on. "Tell me about Kruger's weapon. What is it capable of?" 

Terry shrugged. "I'm not sure. I'm not an expert on military plasma cannons. But I know he can only fire three shots before it starts to overheat. And, on a craft of the size he has, he can't have stashed away more than a dozen power cells. He's probably used about half his ammunition so far." 

"What's its range?" 

"He could burn a hole through a half-inch steel plate on the moon." 

Bruce nodded. "You said before he could track me by infrared?" 

"Yeah, his helmet lets him do that. He can see in any wavelength. He probably picked out Nightwing on the Bank Tower because his costume didn't block as much of his body heat as yours. Once he learns he didn't get you, he'll probably be more choosy with his targets." 

Bruce paused. He had missed the fact that Kruger might assume him dead. Exhaustion was beginning to affect his thinking. "You mentioned power cells. What are they?" 

"They're like batteries, but they pack a lot more juice." 

"How are they constructed?" 

"Superconducting coils with a continuous current running through them, surrounded by a lead/iron alloy. They're about half a meter long and they weigh about forty kilos each. He's probably using up one cell per attack, and by now he's likely gone through one more just flying his craft around." 

"Can they be recharged with materials available to him in this time?" 

"Probably, but it would take a lot of power. I don't know exactly what sources of power are available in this time, but if I remember my history right, fusion plants are a good ten years down the road. Your cars still run on refined petrol, don't they?" 

Bruce didn't respond. Instead, he asked, "How do you intend to return to your own time when this is finished?" 

Terry shrugged. "I'm not sure I can. Believe me, I've thought about it. I think I'm stuck here." 

"Do you think Kruger would have had the same lapse in judgment?" Bruce asked. 

"Hey, I thought it was a lot more preferable to do something about it than sit around and let him muck with reality!" Terry retorted, a little angry. "You taught me that being Batman is about making sacrifices. Let me tell you something about my latest sacrifice, old man. I've lost everyone I've ever known. My parents won't be born for ten years. I had friends, I had family, that are all gone, and now they might never be born because the timeline's been screwed up. The only person I have left in this whole damn world is you, and you seem to hate me even more now than when we first met. You know, I think you should be a little more appreciative of the fact that I gave up my entire life to save yours!" 

Bruce waited calmly for Terry to finish. "I simply meant, do you think that Kruger has a way back to his own time?" 

Terry's face fell. "Oh. Well, he did seem like the sort of guy who thought things through. I suppose it's likely." 

"Then there must be some reason why he hasn't used it already. He must realize that he could return to the future, obtain more powerful weapons and a supply of 'power cells', and then come back to the past to destroy me. He's staying here for a reason." Bruce stood up. 

"Where are we going?" 

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "We?" 

"You need me," Terry insisted. "I know things you don't. And besides, if Kruger has a way back to my time, I can use it as well as he can." 

Bruce was silent. 

"And you don't have time to try and stop me," Terry finished. 

Bruce scowled. Then he went to a closet and pulled out a set of clothes. "These should fit you," he said, tossing them at Terry. "Put them on over that suit." 

Terry began to dress. 

"One more thing," Bruce said. "I don't know how you and I handle things in the future, but here in the past,  I am in charge. You will do what I say or you are of no use to me. The very first moment you step out of line, McGinnis. I will lock you up until this is finished. Got it?" 

"Believe me," Terry said as he covered the Batsuit with a starched white shirt, "I'm used to those kinds of rules." 

* * * * * 

They pulled out of the parking garage in Bruce's Mercedes, drove carefully around the still-smoking pile of tangled rubble that had once been the Bank of Gotham Tower, and cruised off into the city. 

"This is one schway set of wheels," Terry said appreciatively. "I mean, the Batmobile's got its points, but this is just classic." 

"Quiet," Bruce admonished. He touched a hidden button under the dashboard, which promptly flipped around and revealed a complex control panel. Terry was smart enough not to volunteer any further comments as Bruce punched up a number. Alfred's face appeared on the screen. 

"Yes, sir?" Alfred said. 

"Alfred, I need you to pull up some information on a Gene Kruger. He's a physicist or physics student, probably between twenty and thirty years old. I need an address, phone number, and the names of any papers he's written or projects he's been involved with." 

"Right away, sir." Alfred's face winked off the monitor. 

"So that's Alfred," Terry said quietly. "Never thought I'd get to meet him. What about your other partners - Tim Drake, Barbara Gordon? Are they around?" 

Bruce cleared his throat. "They're on leave. I ordered them to stay out of this." 

"Just you and me then, huh?" 

"I'd rather it were just me." 

"I'd guessed that. But I have a stake in this. I'm staying." 

They drove in silence for a while. 

"So," Terry said, "Is there anything you'd like to know about the future?" 

"No." 

"Okay... but don't you think that might be sort of useful information?" 

Bruce shifted in his seat. "Your past isn't necessarily my future, Mr. McGinnis. Enough has changed already. People have died who shouldn't have. I'm afraid that even if we could return you to your own time, it wouldn't be the time you left. You would find your entire world has changed." 

Terry looked dejected. "I hadn't thought of it that way. So... I really can't go back?" 

"I'm afraid not." 

Terry looked out the window at the city going by him. "I'm not sure how well I'll fit into this world. I didn't even fit very well into my own." He sighed. "I don't suppose you'd be interested in another junior partner? Being Batman is about the only skill set I've got." 

"One thing at a time, McGinnis." 

As if on cue, Alfred's face popped up on the dashboard screen. "Sir, I have located Mr. Kruger. He is a graduate student at Gotham West University. He has collaborated on several projects dealing with the quantum nature of matter, and his doctoral thesis, currently up for review, is entitled 'The Theory of Matter and Energy Displacement and Transference'." 

"Good work, Alfred. Do you have his address and phone number?" 

"Coming across on your screen now, sir." Alfred paused. "If I may, sir... who is the young man beside you?" 

Bruce glanced over at Terry. "He's... my guest." 

"Very good, sir." Alfred signed off, leaving the address and phone number on the screen. 

"So, what's the plan?" Terry asked. 

Bruce turned the car onto a street that would take him to the highway out of the city. "We need information on Gene Kruger. Who better to get it from than the man himself?" 

Terry smiled. "Mr. Wayne, can I just say it's a pleasure working with you?" 

In spite of himself, Bruce very nearly smiled back. 

* * * * * 

"I can't tell you what an honor it is to have you here, Mr. Wayne!" 

Bruce forced a smile at the excited young man, hoping it didn't look  too forced. "Well, Mr. Kruger, your work was brought to my attention by a good friend of mine at the University who felt you might be a valuable addition to WayneTech's research and development team. I admit I didn't understand much of your publications, but the theory seems fascinating." 

Reaching Kruger hadn't been difficult. Terry had called, posing as Bruce's personal assistant, and explained that Mr. Wayne had been so captivated by Kruger's work that he'd wanted to meet him personally. An hour's drive later, they were in the Gotham West University physics building, where a bright and eager Gene Kruger greeted them with all due enthusiasm. Terry found it hard to believe that this was the same man who would later try to murder them both several times, cutting down countless innocent lives to do it. 

"This is the main laser bay," Kruger was saying as they swept into another laboratory. "We have a fairly powerful setup here. They use it for all sorts of things, but the really exciting stuff started happening here last week. We actually managed to transfer a few hundred sub-atomic particles from one end of the lab to the other! I know it doesn't sound like much, but it's the first time in the history of the Universe that matter has been, shall we say, teleported!" 

Terry stirred uncomfortably. He could see now the resemblance between the animated youth and the manic, insane old man from the future. Even his choice of words was disturbingly similar. Perhaps the line between brilliance and madness was thinner than he would have liked to believe. 

"That is fascinating," Bruce said. "Tell me, do you think it will ever be possible to teleport a larger object? Something like, for instance, a person?" 

"Conventional thinking says it'll never be practical," Kruger said, shaking his head. "But that's where I disagree with existing theories. I've done some work - purely theoretical, but so far experimentation bears me out - that shows that it may be possible to transmit objects of any mass for any distance in any direction! That's what my thesis is all about." 

"Yes, I was able to get a copy of it," Bruce said. "Most of it was way over my head, but if you have the patience to try and explain it to someone who only took college physics as an elective, I'd really like to hear more about it." 

"Absolutely, Mr. Wayne!" 

* * * * * 

Having found an empty lecture hall, Kruger spent the next hour explaining as much of his theory as he could. Bruce asked questions along the way, things that even Terry could have given the answer too, just to keep up the illusion of a tech company CEO who had found a noteworthy item of passing interest. Terry sat in silence. 

"So, as you can see, the necessary power goes up more or less exponentially as the mass of the subject increases," Kruger was saying. "In other words, it takes, say, four or five kilowatts to transport a baseball, but to send a person anywhere would require more power than Gotham produces in a month. But that's just an engineering problem, and those can be fixed as long as the laws of physics say it can be done." 

"I see," said Bruce. "So, in theory, I could be transported to a meeting in New York, stay for a while, then be transported back that same afternoon and attend a meeting here in Gotham?" 

"Well, not exactly," Kruger said. "See, my equations show something interesting. Once an object has been transported, it loses a certain amount of molecular cohesion." 

"What?" Terry asked, suddenly looking very nervous. 

"The transport process messes with the basic forces that hold matter together - we call them electromagnetism, gravity, and the strong and weak nuclear forces, but in reality they're all manifestations of the same basic force, in much the same way that ice, water, and steam are all different forms of H2O. These forces are apparently weakened with the displacement process; it's entropy, the tendency of the universe to run down and disorganize, and it's a fundamental law of nature that we can't do anything about. That might be something that makes teleportation practical only for inanimate objects - I'd hate to think what something like this would do to a person's brain. Could scramble the eggs, if you know what I mean." 

Terry looked as if he might faint. 

"So then, once something's gone through a transport, it can't do so again," Bruce observed. 

"Well, maybe. After all, the strength of the four forces is also a fairly fundamental rule. My theories indicate that over time, cohesion could return to normal, and then the object could be safely transported again. But who knows how long one would have to wait; it could be seconds, it could be billions of years. You have to understand, Mr. Wayne, that this is a theory in its infancy, not a truly practical system. With a lot more experimentation, and some more minds working on it, I'm sure we could eventually do something real. For the moment, we're just teleporting electrons." 

Bruce smiled - it was obvious that the young man was trying to open some purse strings. He glanced over at Terry, who was still white as a ghost. Bruce couldn't blame him. "One more thing, Mr. Kruger, and I hope it doesn't sound crazy. Is it possible that this process could be used not only to displace an object in space, but in _time?_ I seem to remember reading that time can be viewed as just another dimension." 

The smile dropped off Kruger's face. He glanced nervously around the empty lecture hall and then stepped close to Bruce. "It's odd you should say that," he said in a whisper. "I once tried plugging time variables into my equations once instead of distance variables. They all balanced the same way. I have no idea how it could be made practical - but everything I've got says it might be possible. I haven't dared to publish it, and I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't say anything. If I came out with a theoretical time machine, I could be discredited. Matter transference is already considered a pretty ludicrous idea. If I said I could transmit objects through time as well, I'd end up a laughingstock." 

Bruce smiled. "No chance of that, Mr. Kruger," he said. "I'll admit that I still don't understand much of your theory, but I like your enthusiasm and you're obviously a very intelligent and capable young man. Once your doctorate is complete, I'd be pleased to welcome you at WayneTech. You'd be a very valuable addition to my team." 

Kruger's jaw dropped. "Mr. Wayne - sir - I don't know what to say!" He held out a trembling hand, which Bruce shook warmly. 

* * * * * 

"You seem nervous, McGinnis," Bruce said as they got back into the car. 

"My molecules have been put through the wringer, my brain's been scrambled, and I could evaporate into a cloud of subatomic particles at any moment! You bet I'm nervous!" 

"I don't think you have cause for concern. If Kruger's right, and there's plenty of evidence to show that he knows what he's talking about, the effects of transport fade with time. If you were going to evaporate, you'd have done it when you first arrived." 

Terry nodded. He still looked apprehensive, but some of the color was coming back into his face. "So, now we know why Kruger - the older Kruger - hasn't returned to the future," Terry said. "He can't go safely until his atoms go back to normal." 

"Very likely. Of course, we have no idea how long that takes. It could be any moment, or it could be years." 

"If it helps any, I still feel pretty lousy. I don't know about him, but I'm sure as hell not up for another trip yet." 

Bruce once again came close to smiling. He was beginning to see what his older self must have seen in McGinnis. The boy had definite potential, much like Tim Drake or Dick Grayson. He felt a pang of sadness, then a rush of rage as he thought of his fallen protégé. The younger Kruger had likely been averted from a life of crime, but the older one still had much to answer for. 

"So, where are we going now?" Terry asked. 

"I have a few things I need to check on back at the house," Bruce said. He reached above the visor and pulled out a small pill, which he swallowed. 

"The Batcave? Schway! I've been curious to see it in its prime, you know." 

"Get used to disappointment," Bruce said. He opened the armrest next to him and pressed a small switch. A puff of gas jetted briefly into Terry's face, and he slumped sideways against the doorframe. 

* * * * * 

"Are you sure it was wise to bring him here, sir?" 

"I don't think we had much choice, Alfred. I had to bring him somewhere, and this way we can keep an eye on him." 

Terry heard the voices, but they didn't make much sense. His eyelids felt like they had lead weights attached to them. 

He felt a small poke in his arm, and with a sudden rush his consciousness returned. "Hey!" he shouted. Looking up, he saw Bruce Wayne, dressed in his Batsuit from the neck down, holding a small injector. Behind him was a slim, impeccably-dressed older gentleman with a look of concern on his face. Terry tried to stand up, and noticed his hands were secured to the chair. "What..." he shook his head. The initial rush from the antidote to - whatever it was - was wearing off, and a lingering fogginess settled back on his mind. Terry fought through the haze and felt it clear somewhat. "What gives? I thought you believed me!" 

"Mr. McGinnis, everything about you indicates you're from the future like you said," Bruce said. "That doesn't necessarily make the rest of your story true. You seem to know a lot about me, but I know next to nothing about you. I don't intend to blindly trust you with only your say-so to go on." 

Terry's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. 

Bruce stepped out of the small room - for the first time, Terry noticed he was in some kind of holding cell. "I'll be back in an hour, perhaps a bit more. In the meantime, I think you'll find that Alfred is an excellent chef." The door closed between them, and at the same moment the restraints popped off his wrists. 

Muttering, Terry got up and had a look under a silver cover on a tray next to him. Despite himself, he almost smiled. Bruce hadn't been kidding about Alfred's culinary talents. 

* * * * * 

It wasn't quite an hour when Terry heard the door open. He looked up to see the familiar face of a man he'd never met. "Hello, Alfred," he said. 

"Good evening, Master Terry," Alfred said in a voice that betrayed no surprise at having been recognized. "I apologize for the accommodations. Normally, I try to be a little more gracious to our guests." 

"You haven't had a guest like me before," Terry said. "I guarantee it." 

Alfred said nothing, but simply busied himself with Terry's supper dishes. 

"Has he told you my story?" Terry asked. 

"He has." 

"Do you believe me, Alfred?" 

Alfred looked at Terry. "In all my years of working for Mr. Wayne, I have learned that the unexpected is to be expected and that the inexplicable is par for the course. I have also learned that things are seldom what they seem. You, my young friend, are certainly an enigma, but not more so than others I have encountered in my years." 

"So, you don't believe me then." Terry sat back and sighed in a disgusted manner. "I don't know why I expected any different." 

"That having been said," Alfred continued, "your story, as you call it, is absolutely preposterous and completely impossible. That would seem to indicate that it must be true. Either that, or you are insane. No one tells an impossible story and expects it to be believed unless they themselves believe it." 

Terry blinked. 

"Would you care for some tea, Master Terry?" Alfred asked, as if they had been discussing the weather. 

Terry chuckled. "You know, Alfred, if nothing else, I'm glad for the chance to meet you. That alone has made this entire trip worthwhile." 

Alfred couldn't help but smile, but quickly covered it up. "Thank you, Master Terry. Now, if you'll excuse me -" 

Bruce came in, his mouth a grim line. 

"So?" Terry asked. "Do I stay in here and rot, or join you both for tea?" 

"No time," Bruce said, tossing the black Batsuit at Terry. "We have a problem. Join me by the computer as soon as you're dressed. Alfred, we'll be leaving shortly. Pack only what we absolutely need." 

* * * * * 

Terry stared at the main computer screen and tried not to retch at what he saw. 

"It's him, all right," Bruce said tonelessly. "Someone managed to sneak a camera into the city morgue and sneak out with some pictures. Pictures of Nightwing unmasked." 

The body was bloodied, broken, the way one might expect him to look after having been caught in a collapsing skyscraper. However, fate had determined that Dick Grayson's face had come through the disaster more or less intact. He was bruised, and the picture was at an awkward angle that made him visible only in profile, but it was enough. 

"Has anyone recognized him yet?" Terry asked. 

"No, but the picture is popping up all over the internet. It's only a matter of time. We have hours, if we're lucky, before Kruger sees it. When he does, he'll come here. Or worse, he may choose to stay in hiding until he can safely transfer again, then come back and kill me more easily with his new knowledge to guide him. He could destroy me as a child, or kill my parents before I'm conceived." 

"I don't think so," Terry said. "This guy strikes me as the sort who wants to do things more directly than that. He deliberately led me to his machine so I could witness his plan in action. I think the only reason he's attacking you with long-range weapons is that he's scared to come any closer." 

Bruce nodded. "That thought had occurred to me." 

Terry didn't smile, but inwardly acknowledged the rare compliment from his mentor. "So, why the change of heart about me?" 

"I assumed your suit had a video camera, or the equivalent. I was able to isolate the circuits that housed its memory and plug it into the batcomputer. The video matched your story. For the time being, and to a certain extent, I'm willing to trust you." 

"I could have faked the video." 

"Not the parts I was in. I think even a time traveler would have difficulty with that. But that's beside the point. Your video was valuable in other ways." Bruce clicked up a few images on the computer. "This is footage from the future - my future, to be precise. It's where you were right before you came to the past." 

"I remember it well, thanks." 

Bruce pointed at a section of the screen, which enlarged as he did so. "This seems to be the control panel for Kruger's displacement machine. The detail isn't great enough to let us read it, or even make out individual controls, but it's obvious that he's using it to conduct his experiments for these 'Cobras'." 

"So?" 

"So, take a look at this footage a few moments later." 

Terry watched as events that he had witnessed a few days ago scrolled by on the screen. He saw his bombs activate, with the same mixed results he remembered. Bruce fast-forwarded to the point where Kruger flew his hovercraft toward the machine. It entered the spinning field with a white blast, and then Terry followed it shortly afterward. A second white blast followed, there was a few seconds of static, and then the view from the bottom of the crater in the alley. 

"It was a little more exciting than that to live through," Terry said. "So, what's the point?" 

"I remember you saying that Kruger boasted that your bombs didn't destroy his controls, though they obviously did destroy the ones he had used before. He must have known he would only have a few seconds to use his machine before you destroyed the rest of it. He was a careful man who planned things out in advance. So his second set of controls would be -" 

"On the hovercraft!" Terry exclaimed. 

"Precisely," Bruce said. "And it therefore stands to reason that, if he has a way home, it's integrated into his ship. The hovercraft itself may also be able to work as a time displacement device. Perhaps it can't transfer itself, but he has likely built a small portal on board that can transport him personally." 

Terry nodded. "So, what do we do now? I take it that staying here isn't an option." 

"On the contrary, it's the only option. Kruger is bound to attack Wayne Manor once he learns that I and Batman are one and the same. We wait for him here, and hope that we have time to catch him before he's ready to -" 

_**CRACK!**_

A violent thunderclap shook the chamber, followed by a low, rumbling blast of collapsing stone. Slabs of rock plummeted from the ceiling as the entire Batcave quaked with some overhead impact. Alarms went off almost immediately, followed by sprinklers and emergency lights. 

Terry quickly got to his feet, and ran to assist Bruce, whose knee had buckled under him. "I think we have company," Terry said. 

The painfully brilliant red shaft of Kruger's laser sliced through the roof of the cave, racing toward them with terrifying speed. 

  
**TO BE CONCLUDED...**


	7. Part VII

**The Once and Future Bat **

a **Batman Beyond** fanfic  
by**  
Mike Yamiolkoski  
**  
  
  
  
** PART SEVEN**

Terry dodged the beam as it cut across the floor toward him, past him, slicing through the Batcomputer in a shower of sparks. Bruce had fired a batline across the cave and swung out of its way, but as the ceiling shook and stalactites fell, the security of the line came into question. 

_One that we didn't see, one that we did_, Terry thought. _One more, then_ -

The third beam stabbed through another section of the roof and swept across the length of the cave. A huge chunk of the ceiling dropped away, falling onto the Batmobile's platform and crushing the car like tin foil. The beam continued its destructive path through equipment storage, through the stairs to the mansion, and into what would later become the trophy room. The lights failed as the main power feed was cut, but now a shaft of yellowish daylight through the enlarging hole in the roof illuminated the cave's interior.

"Bruce!" Terry shouted. He received no answer. The dust obscured his view, even the infrared scanners on his cowl did nothing. At least he didn't have to worry about Kruger taking another shot for a few minutes.

His relief was short-lived. A _fourth_ beam stroked through a formerly intact section of ceiling and cut away the floor upon which Terry stood. He activated his rockets and leaped away from the landslide, flying upwards and away from the beam toward the sky. Apparently, Kruger was no longer terribly concerned with overheating his cannon. That was bad news in more ways than one - it indicated that he might soon be prepared to abandon his equipment, and return to the future. But if he overtaxed the gun too far, it would explode.

As Terry emerged from the ruined Batcave and into the open air, he realized that that might be his only hope. If he could keep Kruger busy, make him take more shots, make him angry or frustrated enough not to heed his power consumption, perhaps the mad scientist would destroy himself. It was a workable plan - the only problem was that it made Terry the target of a very, very deadly weapon.

On the other hand, it didn't look like he would be given a choice. Kruger's hovercraft swept down upon Terry over the smoking rubble of what had once been the grand Wayne Manor, much faster than Terry himself could fly, and the gun was charging for another shot.

Terry applied full power to his rockets and darted away from the deadly beam, shooting straight up and then banking toward the city. Only open ocean lay in any other direction, and Terry knew that without any sort of cover he would be picked off like a clay pigeon. He only hoped that Kruger would overload his cannon before they got to Gotham.

He snapped back and forth in as convoluted a path as he could, dodging Kruger's short blasts that set the forest below aflame wherever it touched. Terry cursed inwardly - Kruger wasn't losing his head. His short blasts might take hours to overload the cannon, and Terry's fuel wouldn't last that long. The batsuit wasn't designed to run for days on end without being refueled and repowered. The jets would go first, then the exoskeletal performance enhancements, and finally the electronic sensor aids. Already, the power-low icon was flashing at the edge of Terry's field of vision.

He felt the heat of the next blast across his back. Kruger was getting closer with each shot - Terry wondered if his helmet gave him the ability to fine-tune his aim. The city was getting closer - already they were flying over fairly densely populated areas. The laser beams hadn't struck ground since the attack on the Batcave, but it seemed only a matter of time.

Terry rolled away from the next blast, its bright, searing red blaze blinding him for a critical second. He dodged the next one without seeing it, but he saw where it went. The line of fire touched one of Gotham's skyscrapers and blasted five stories from its top. Terry cringed as he thought of the people who must have been there. Even from ten or twenty miles away, the laser's power was devastating.

"Terry! _Drop!!_"

The voice in his ears was one he had grown accustomed to obeying without hesitation, and doubtless that saved his life. The next beam cut inches above his head as he cut his rockets and plunged. Kruger's hovercraft streaked over him an instant later, followed by - what?

It was an aircraft Terry had only seen in a state of half-destruction, hung from the ceiling of the Batcave that was now itself destroyed. The Batwing. And only Bruce could be at its controls.

"Bruce?" Terry asked.

"I'm here," Bruce answered. "I discovered your suit's audio transmitter when I examined it. I assumed that it would use one of my standard frequencies."

"Thanks for the help. Can you catch him?"

"The Batwing has a top speed that's likely far greater than his, but that hovercraft is much more maneuverable. And I can't get a radar lock on it, he must have some kind of jamming device."

"What do you want me to do?" Terry asked.

"Head for downtown Gotham. I think he's going to try and lose me in the city, see if you can get there before he does. He's flying a zigzag course to try and shake me - if you fly straight, you might be able to beat him."

"Roger, Boss." Pointedly ignoring his suit's low-power warnings, Terry streaked like a guided missile toward Gotham.

* * * * *

Kruger's hovercraft was indeed far more maneuverable than Batman's plane, a mismatch almost as great as that between the craft and Terry McGinnis. Bruce cut down on Kruger's advantage by doing his best to maintain a higher altitude, all the while seeking a means to bring it down. He couldn't risk opening fire without a radar lock - there was no telling who he might kill with a missed shot. All he could do was keep Kruger as busy as possible in the hopes that it might prevent him from turning his laser on more innocent people, or worse, activating his temporal transport.

It was all the Batwing could do to keep tabs on the flitting hovercraft, which dodged back and forth like an insect, seemingly in defiance of any laws of physics. Bruce had silenced alarms that would tell him of undue stress being placed on the plane. It didn't matter if the Batwing never flew again once this was over - with his secret out to the world, Batman himself was likely through. His final desperation plan, if necessary, would be to ram the Batwing into Kruger's hovercraft and destroy both of them. Indeed, Bruce wondered what he might have left to live for. Dick Grayson was dead, his home was gone, the Batcave lay buried, and it was unlikely at best that Alfred had gotten out of the mansion alive. Bruce had barely had time to board the Batwing and launch, and there wouldn't have been time even for that if he hadn't thought ahead to prepare the plane for flight.

Lights appeared in the sky ahead, approaching from the city. Bruce switched on the police band to have his suspicions confirmed - Commissioner Gordon had sent out helicopters. What they could do to help, Bruce didn't know, but whatever kept Kruger at the controls of his craft instead of the controls for his time portal was a plus. Unfortunately, he had already shown that he was fully capable of firing his gun while flying.

The laser flashed once in a brief, deadly burst, and one of the helicopters became an expanding orange fireball. Its power barely diminished by contact with the helicopter, the beam cut through downtown Gotham and struck one of the taller buildings. Bruce didn't have time to watch the resulting destruction in the city - he rolled the Batwing over and dove at Kruger, hoping to knock him off course with his jetwash.

The nimble hovercraft leaped out of the way, and Bruce pulled up on the controls to dodge another beam fired at him. The blast went wide of his plane, but tore into the ground in the middle of a crowded subdivision, obliterating at least five homes in a fraction of a second. Two of the police helicopters broke off the pursuit and banked down toward the fire.

Knowing it would do no good for him to join the rescue efforts, Bruce brought the Batwing back up to a position at Kruger's rear and prepared to fire his missiles. If they missed, he could disarm them remotely before they hit anything, and the resulting property damage would be minimal. However, he had only one shot. The Batwing wasn't an F-16; it could carry only so much ordnance. In any event, Bruce had never intended to use his weapons to kill.

But if that were the only way to stop this madman, then so be it.

* * * * *

Terry met the roof of the WayneTech building at full speed, the force of the impact knocking the wind out of him. He had been unwilling to use what was left of his scant fuel supply to brake his descent. When he had caught his breath, he turned to watch the battle in the sky just outside the city. Kruger's laser flashed twice as he watched, the first beam streaking harmlessly into the sky, the second slicing into a building a couple of miles away. Steel and masonry rained down from the wounded structure into the street.

The street. Terry looked down. Even from a height of eighty stories, he could sense the pandemonium that had gripped Gotham. People were running wildly through the city, panicking, rioting, looting, tearing their own city apart at ground level even as Kruger decimated it from the sky. Terry shook his head, wondering how things could have gotten so far out of control so quickly, all due to one man's misguided thirst for revenge. Even if they succeeded, if Kruger were killed or brought to justice, there would be such chaos to overcome that Terry wondered if he and Bruce, with both their lives shattered, could possibly take on the task.

"Terry!"

Bruce's shout in his ears broke Terry out of his reverie. He inwardly cursed himself for losing focus, and responded. "I'm at WayneTech, Bruce. If you can swing him by here, I can make a jump for him."

"Right now, Kruger's calling the shots. I can't lead him anywhere without getting burned out of the sky."

"Maybe he'll come by here anyway, and try to demolish the building. You know, as another shot at you."

"We can't stake this on a maybe," Bruce said. "I'm going to try and take him down."

* * * * *

Bruce cut off communication with Terry and brought the Batwing into a steep climb to shed some speed. In order for his shot to have a hope of connecting, he would have to be practically on top of Kruger when he fired. The only advantage he had was the Batwing's superior acceleration. He would have to go into a full power dive directly over the top of Kruger's craft, leaving him no time to dodge the missiles. Such a maneuver also meant that, in the advent of a miss, Bruce would have that much less time to deactivate his missiles and pull out of the dive, but he gave himself one chance in three of surviving it. Not the odds he would have preferred, but better than any alternative.

He checked that his missiles were armed, banked the Batwing sharply around in a post-stall maneuver, and plunged.

The roar of the afterburners shook his seat as he dove at frightening speed toward Kruger's hovercraft and the ground. Bruce lined up his crosshairs by eye, still unable to get a radar lock. Kruger had already begun to bank his hovercraft away, and Bruce tried to anticipate where he might be when the missiles intersected his position.

A heartbeat later, he squeezed the firing trigger.

The missiles darted away from the Batwing, and Bruce immediately threw all he had into a twisting bank away from his target. It was entirely possible that, even if he hit, he would be caught in the blast and killed. Out of the corner of one eye, he watched for the explosion.

A full second went by. He had missed.

Bruce vital attention away from his controls to hit the switch that disarmed the errant missiles, then pulled at the stick with all his strength, feeling the pain from his previously fractured wrist burn up the length of his arm. The plane's superstructure groaned around him from the strain of the hard maneuver, but held together. The ground approached less quickly, then finally tilted wildly away as the Batwing caught the air and leveled off meters above a suburban street. Windows shattered in houses up the street as the Batwing passed, then pulled up and away. Bruce expected to be hit by Kruger's laser at any moment, but miraculously, he was not. As he wrenched the plane back up into the sky, he discovered why.

Several of the police helicopters had managed to get close enough to buzz the hovercraft, and Kruger was making a straight run for it. His craft easily outpaced the helicopters, but not so the Batwing. Batman readied his machine guns.

The distance between the Batwing and the hovercraft closed rapidly. In seconds, they were close enough for Bruce to shoot. He squeezed his triggers just as the hovercraft banked away. Tracer bullets cut ribbons of red light through the darkening sky, missing the craft by inches. Then he Batwing roared through the same spot, and re-assumed its position above Kruger's craft.

Bruce took a moment to listen to the police band. Another helicopter had gone down, and Commissioner Gordon spoke of military units that were on their way, ordering his men to back off. Bruce cursed to himself - there was no way to impress upon the Commissioner the need to keep Kruger busy no matter what the cost. The moment they left him alone might be the moment he needed to activate the time displacement. But they were close to the city now, almost in the thick of downtown.

"McGinnis?"

"Here."

"I'm going to pull in front of Kruger and try to lead him toward you. I don't know how long I can dodge his shots - I might not be able to do it at all. We're only going to have one chance at this. You have to catch him, and stop him."

"I'm not sure I can. My suit is getting low on power -"

"McGinnis, we don't have time to argue!" Bruce checked Kruger's position, and prepared to pull ahead. "I'm going to lead him past you in the next few seconds. I will then most likely be killed. I'm entrusting you to do what needs to be done."

Bruce kicked the afterburners in for a brief moment, and the Batwing swooped directly down into Kruger's sights.

* * * * *

Terry heard the roar of the approaching jet, and prepared to spring. He had no idea if he had sufficient fuel left to make a leap to the hovercraft as it passed, and no way of knowing if there was enough power left to drive his exoskeletal enhancers to give him the strength to disable the craft.

The Batwing swept around a nearby skyscraper and tore past the WayneTech Building. Terry pushed off the rooftop dome and gave his jets full power as Kruger's hovercraft approached.

Then, with no help at all from whatever time-warping device Kruger might have had aboard his craft, everything seemed to slow to a crawl. Fractions of seconds slowed to minutes as Terry spent the last of his rocket fuel in a desperate dive toward the hovercraft's roof.

The first thing Terry realized was that Bruce's plan was doomed to inevitable failure. Kruger was a man who could see in all directions - he couldn't be caught unaware. He would see Terry's approach from the side as easily as directly in front of him.

_The laser emitter glowed..._

The second thing was that the Batwing had suddenly slowed as it rounded the tower, and angled its nose almost vertical. It was an insane maneuver, providing Kruger with a perfect spread-eagled target that looked curiously like the batsignal itself.

_...pulsed..._

The third thing, and this was more of a shock than either of the first two, was that this was exactly what Bruce had intended. He was deliberately sacrificing his life to draw Kruger's full attention, to keep him from seeing the threat that Terry himself posed.

_...fired!_

The beam struck the Batwing dead-center, and the plane was instantly consumed in a bursting fireball. At the same moment, Terry landed heavily on the hovercraft's roof. He barely had time to dig in with the suit's claws and hide his face in his arms as the craft passed through the burning cloud of glowing fragments that was once the Batwing. Then they were through, and the hovercraft sped on into the night. 

* * * * * 

Kruger's mission was complete. Terry's had just begun. 

As the craft tore out of the city like an arrow in flight, Terry flipped an explosive Batarang from his wrist and jammed it down hard into the hovercraft's roof. Then he retracted his claws just long enough to slide back to the tail of the ship, where he had only a second to re-establish his grip before the batarang exploded. 

The blast nearly shook him loose - Terry realized that his magnetic grips had failed. He felt a sudden jerk backwards as the suit's tensing exoskeleton lost power and, consequently, Terry lost his enhanced strength. The craft's great speed whipped it clear of its own debris in seconds, and Terry could see that his explosive had done its work. The roof of the hovercraft had been ripped away. 

Terry himself was close to suffering the same fate, as the wind buffeted him and threatened to tear him loose. Then it slowed, suddenly, and Terry tumbled forward into the hole his batarang had created. He landed hard inside the craft - 

- and found himself face-to-face with Gene Kruger. 

Kruger wasted no time with greetings. He swung a heavy club around and connected with the side of Terry's head. Terry felt his cheekbone crack with the impact, and tumbled across the floorboards to the hatch, which had swung open. 

"One more Bat to exterminate," Kruger hissed.

Terry dodged the next blow, though barely. He caught a brief glimpse of a large, complex machine that took up the passenger seat and most of the rear seats at the front of the craft. At its center was a spinning circle, only three feet across, but similar to the one he had seen at the fusion plant days ago - or fifty years to come. Bruce had been right - Kruger had his escape route ready, and was even now powering it up.

"It's already over, you pathetic child," Kruger said with a scowl. "The Batman has fallen. I have my vengeance, and with my machine, I will create for myself a new life in any era I choose." Kruger brought his club down on Terry again, striking his right arm just above the elbow and shattering the bone. Terry bit back a cry of pain.

"Can you fly with your wings broken, boy?" Kruger brought the next blow down on Terry's left arm. This time, Terry moved at the last minute, and the club glanced his ribs instead, tearing the wing of the suit. Terry took the opportunity to grab the club, and wrench it from Kruger's grasp. He saw Kruger wind up to kick him in the side, and instead of moving to defend himself, whipped the club up into Kruger's face.

The metal bar cracked against Kruger's helmet even as the kick landed on Terry's already broken arm. This time he couldn't hold back his scream, but in his haze of agony he knew that he'd inflicted some damage on his opponent as well.

Another kick landed in his midsection, pushing him through the open hatch. Terry reached out with his good arm and wrapped his fingers around the single rung of the egress ladder, holding on but dangling helplessly, with no way to pull himself up and no way to save himself if he fell.

He looked up. Kruger's loomed above him, his helmet smashed on the right side, but apparently still functioning. He reached down and grabbed the cowl with one hand, yanking it free of Terry's face. The pain that lanced through his broken cheek almost made him lose his grip, but still he clung.

"Now," Kruger said, "Do I simply kill you, or let you watch as I escape to the future, where if by some miracle you do survive I can take my pleasure in destroying you yet again?"

Terry tried desperately to make his right hand work, to pull a batarang, but it was futile.

"I suppose I prefer not to have any loose ends," Kruger said with a smile. "Farewell, Once and Future Bat..."

His foot came down on Terry's head with stunning force.

Terry took the first blow, but the second ripped his grip away. With a scream of rage and pain, he dropped away from the hovercraft. He tried desperately to ignite his rockets, useless though they were without the wings, but his fuel was spent. Down he tumbled -

And a giant Bat soared across the face of the full moon.

* * * * *

From his remaining optical sensors, Kruger caught the movement as well, but too late. He turned only in time to catch a brutal kick from the Batman's boot as Bruce Wayne swept down from the sky, gliding on silent wings that he dropped and let fall as he touched the deck of the hovercraft. Without waiting another instant, Batman dove for the rail and fired a batline.

Terry felt a sudden grip on his ankle, as if he had been grabbed by a mechanical hand. Looking back up at the hovercraft, he saw a long line snaking upwards from his leg, terminating in the sky somewhere above him. The line drew tight as he fell, and suddenly arrested his descent with a jerk that might have torn his leg from its socket if not for the strong fibers of the batsuit. Fighting the urge to lose consciousness, Terry reached up with his left hand and grasped the batline as it slowly wound his battered body upwards toward the hovercraft.

* * * * *

Batman anchored his line to one of the hovercraft seats and turned to face Gene Kruger, who stared up at him wide wide, unseeing eyes. His helmet had been ripped away from Bruce's initial blow.

"NO!!" Kruger screamed. "I killed you! You're dead! You're DEAD!!"

Batman grabbed Kruger by the shirt and pulled him up to look him in the face. "No," he whispered. "You're dead."

He lifted Kruger's twisting, screeching form clear of the floorboards, took him to the side of the craft, and flung him over the side -

But held on.

Bruce stared into the blind eyes of the man whose life he held in his fist. The man who had come to take his revenge for an act Bruce hadn't even committed yet, the man who destroyed his home, decimated his city, murdered countless innocents - among them Dick Grayson, and perhaps Alfred as well. If anyone deserved execution at Bruce Wayne's hands, this man was the one.

And yet... it would be futile. The damage was done.

And Gene Kruger suddenly looked pathetic, pitiful, helpless.

Bruce pulled him back aboard and snapped cuffs on his wrists.

* * * * *

When Terry reached the side of the craft, Bruce's hand was there to grab him. In another moment, he was aboard the craft.

"Bruce," he said. "How... I saw the Batwing explode..."

"I ejected before Kruger fired," Bruce said. "Out the underside of the plane. He couldn't see me."

"That's why you banked upwards?"

"And to give him a better target. I hoped it would distract him so you could get aboard." Bruce waved down Terry's next question. "We have a problem."

As if to lend force to his words, the laser cannon blasted apart midway along its barrel and blew open the front canopy of the craft, showering them with sparks and glass. Bruce held up his cape to protect them for the moment.

"The laser is overloading!" he shouted over a wind that swept through the cabin. "We only have a few seconds! I need you in the pilot's seat - keep us from crashing!"

Terry pulled himself to his feet, ignoring the wave of dizziness that swept over him, and tumbled into the right-side seat. "I won't be much of a pilot with one arm!" he called.

"Just hold it steady for a few seconds!" Bruce shouted. He reached over Terry to a second console, and touched several switches.

"What are you doing?" Terry asked. His voice was lost in the wind, but he got his answer soon enough. The time displacement portal, which had been spinning in what seemed to be an idle mode, suddenly seemed to gear up and spin faster. The field within the circle brightened to a dazzling white.

"Terry!" Bruce shouted. "If this doesn't work, it's all going to be up to you. Find Alfred, if you can. Find Commissioner Gordon. Do what you can to get this city back together!"

"What are you going to do?" Terry shouted.

"I've set the device to its last programmed coordinates. It should take me back to the same time and place where the hovercraft first arrived!"

"Wait a minute - the same time and place? Bruce, if you appear in exactly the same place and time as the hovercraft, it'll probably kill you!"

Bruce didn't answer.

"That's what you're trying to do!" Terry screamed.

Bruce turned to him. "I can't do anything else," she said, barely loud enough to be heard. "There's nothing I can do in the here and now. But if I can stop this before it started..."

A blast of flaming heat erupted from the laser cannon's power cell.

"BRUCE!!"

"No time," Bruce said. He locked the controls for the time displacement device in place, and slid back around to the rear of the craft to face the spinning circle, timing its motions to throw himself through at the right moment. Then he looked back at Terry for the last time.

"Farewell... Batman," he said.

The laser cannon blew apart as Bruce threw his body into the blinding field of the time machine -

- A blast of white-hot fire caught Terry McGinnis and threw his body through the air, burning through his suit, scorching his skin. Glass shattered around him as he hurtled out into the night, tumbling over and over as the shock wave of the explosion tossed his body like a feather in the wind. His brief, uncontrollable flight ended as he and the large chunks of debris surrounding him struck a wide, flat expanse of water. Terry shook his head, surprised to find himself still conscious, then kicked his way to the surface.

"McGinnis!"

Terry winced at the static that came over his comlink. "I'm here! I'm all right!"

"What happened?"

Terry turned around in the water to look back at the fusion plant. "I'm not sure," he said. "Kruger activated his machine and tried to fly a hovercraft into it. Then the whole thing blew. I'm a little surprised to be alive."

"The feeling is mutual. So, the machine is destroyed?"

"The whole building is gone," Terry said.

"I've got a lock on your position. I'm sending the Batmobile to pick you up. Hang on."

Terry found a piece of floating debris, and waited for his ride to arrive.

* * * * *

The canopy of the Batmobile lifted, and Terry stepped out, dripping wet and hurting all over.

"I hope you realize I just mopped," Bruce said, glaring at the puddle forming at Terry's feet.

"Oh, I'm fine. Just got blown up, but you know, that's how my day goes sometimes."

Bruce ignored the comment. "The fire's been contained. Kruger's machine is definitely destroyed. They found pieces of his hovercraft as well."

Terry nodded. "I guess he wasn't as smart as he thought."

"Perhaps. We'll never know, now. It's a pity, really - his kind of intelligence is rare, too rare to be wasted."

"You getting philosophical on me?"

"You should probably be getting home."

Terry smiled, and turned to leave. Bruce was left alone in the Batcave.

He reached to shut down the lights and other systems, then paused. For some strange reason, a feeling came over him like he hadn't had for a long time, a feeling that he, for some reason, couldn't ignore. He sat back down and activated the video phone, dialed a number from memory, and waited.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Dick," Bruce said to the face on the screen. "It's been a long time." 

  
**THE END**

  
  
  
  
  


End Notes:

It is my sincere hope that my readers have enjoyed this, my second Batman Beyond fanfic. It was certainly a pleasure to write it, and I hope that my enthusiasm as its author came through in the work and caught on with the readers.

Ever since I first saw Batman Beyond, I wondered if they would ever do an episode wherein Terry McGinnis encountered his predecessor at his peak. Sadly, this was not to be the case (though there were times where they came close). And so this idea developed; starting with a "Terminator" style concept, in which Bruce Wayne is hunted by an assassin from the future, the rest of the story took shape.

Now, the necessary disclaimers and acknowledgements:

Batman, Bruce Wayne, Terry McGinnis, Nightwing, and other characters (with the significant exception of Gene Kruger) are not my creation. They are used in this story without permission. The existence of similar works of fanfiction on the internet, and the lack of action taken by the owners of these characters to remove such stories, is taken as implicit permission to use them as I have.

I have tried to be as consistent as possible with the recent Batman and Batman Beyond cartoons - however, I have not seen them all, and so there may be inconsistencies in this story that I am unaware of.

Thanks go out to:

Bob Kane, for creating the remarkable character of Batman.

DC comics, Warner Brothers, and AOL Time Warner for giving him a home.

All the people whose hard work has brought us the Batman and Batman Beyond animated shows.

All the webmasters who post this story.

All the kind people who have read and reviewed the story. Your comments mean a great deal to me and are much appreciated!

My lovely wife Rachel, for not minding that I spent so much time sitting in the basement writing it.

Adam West, for keeping the character of Batman alive through the previous generation (something he and the others who did the 60's TV show don't get enough credit for). Who else thinks that Adam West should portray Bruce Wayne in a live-action Batman Beyond movie? I'm all for it!

Dr. Emmet Brown, for creating the flux capacitor, which is what makes time travel possible.

  
I have other ideas for Batman Beyond fics, but they may not grow into stories. We shall see.

  
E-mail Mike Yamiolkoski at MikeYamiolkoski@msn.com.

This story may be distributed and posted only in its entirety with the above notice intact.


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